This Side Up

Refuge from a windy, wet night

By John Howell
Posted 10/11/16

Have you ever sat on a warm radiator? It can be heavenly when the wind is screaming and rain is ticking on the windowpane. Ollie looked at me imploringly, like I could somehow share that blissful moment. He was wet from his evening pit stop, the one that

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This Side Up

Refuge from a windy, wet night

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Have you ever sat on a warm radiator? It can be heavenly when the wind is screaming and rain is ticking on the windowpane.

Ollie looked at me imploringly, like I could somehow share that blissful moment. He was wet from his evening pit stop, the one that hopefully would take him through the night and not have him whining at 3 a.m. to be let out. Unfortunately, he failed to understand the purpose of the excursion into the windy, wet outside, and instead of conducting a sniff of the perimeter of his pen stood in disgust at the gate.

“Come on, Ollie, I don’t want to be out here either. Do it and let’s go back inside.”

He looked at me like I was nuts. What was the point of being out here when it’s cozy inside?

I pulled the zipper up on my rain jacket and lifted the hood over my head. Maybe if I walked the length of the pen and back several times he would get the hint. By my second turn, he took a few steps and I had hopes my mission would be accomplished.

“That’s it,” I encouraged, wondering if my words were drowned out by the wind. This by no means was anything like the hurricane that threatened to come our way, but at 20 and 25 knots it was more than forecast. Rain splattered my jacket and ran down my hood.

Ollie was stationed at the gate, patiently waiting for this ordeal to end.

What’s the use, I thought? He wants to go back inside. I want to go back inside.

“Okay,” I relented, “we’re going in.”

He perked up at my tone of voice, and it’s easy to believe he understood perfectly what I was saying. I opened the gate, slipped my hand on his collar, and he literally pulled me to the kitchen door. As soon as he was inside he shook in that incredible way dogs can do, starting with the head and shimmering down the body when in a final spasm, droplets flew from his tail. He didn’t wait, heading straight upstairs for our bedroom.

After shedding the rain jacket, I went up, too. There had been a chill to the house, made all the more pronounced by the weather outside.

“It’s 62,” Carol said during dinner, justifying a turn of the thermostat. Moments later the radiators were whistling and the very sound was somehow comforting. Now, I was curious to see whether they were warm. Radiators don’t exactly make for relaxed seating, but in this case it was a welcome refuge.

Ollie came over for a scratch behind the ears. He wagged and left me to return to our bedroom.

I should have known what he would do. I had found my warm spot. He found his.

Only when it was time to go to bed did I realize what my efforts to get him through the night would yield. Yes, he had shaken off, but nonetheless our bed was clammy and had that wet dog smell.

Naturally, Ollie was quite happy. He grudgingly left his lair for the carpet.

Carol and I looked at each other.

The radiator may be good for sitting, but it wasn’t going to make for a bed. There was one thing left to do before turning off the light. We pulled off the blanket and sheets and remade the bed.

Ollie watched and was ready to climb up when we finished. That’s where we drew the line.

And, thankfully, he made it through the night.

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