thirsty thursday

So, it was 4:30 on a Thursday, and I was drinking a gin & tonic. Yes, I was alone, and yes, I know that drinking alone is pathetic, but I wasn’t really drinking. I was doing three things: shopping online, breaking in the loveseat, and watching Seinfeld and the local weather. I just happened to be thirsty at the time. Anyway, it was a field day for the local weathermen and women—tornados here, baseball-sized hail there. Boy, were they excited. All of a sudden, I hear this scratching. This desperate, strange scratching. Vegas was outside, but she never scratched at the door. She would much rather launch herself full-speed into it and make a big thud. After a few minutes of listening to this unpleasant noise (recall here that my slow response time is likely due to the generous shot of Beefeater I gave myself), I decided to investigate. As I got to the kitchen, I heard this violent drumming. It was raining, might I say, cats and dogs. I opened the door, and a sopping wet Vegas shot past my leg, stopped, and shook. What a bad dog parent I am, eh? What's worse is that I did it again a few hours later.