Rainy Day I stretch, toss Panda gently onto the wet grass, duck back under the eaves hoping my pup will do her business, meaning business, and come right back to me, so we can retreat to dry inside. Panda Girl doesn’t get it. Rather, she prances like the princess she is all the way across the yard, high-born head and flag tail regal both held high. She turns as if to summon me, What are you waiting for? “Panda, come,” I command. She tilts her head. No. You come, her stance manifests. She stays, tail wagging, sky leaking moisture all over her seven-pound self. Yesterday’s grass clippings cling to her black and white fur with leaves and other bits of yard debris. I sigh, start out with shoulders scrunched, head bowed to let my back take the brunt of today’s assault on earth. Panda sees and circles joyful, plants feet, barks, See! I told you! The water’s fine. I lift head, straighten shoulders, relax, and walk in the wonder: my rain-dancing dog’s right. * * * Photo by A A on Unsplash