I don’t go outside when it rains.
There, I said it. I know I’m a dog and we’re supposed to enjoy frolicking outside no matter what, but I’ve got standards, and being wet and cold does not fall into those standards. Yeah, so what if I’m supposed to poop outside. You know what? Why don’t you try pooping outside in the pouring rain and then tell me about it. And even if you did do that, it still wouldn’t change my mind. I simply won’t go outside when it’s raining, and neither do any Tanzanians.
I know I shouldn’t complain, especially since a month ago I was in the frigid arctic, but I hate rain in Africa. It’s sort of the rainy season here in Mwanza, but what that means, I’m not exactly sure. It hasn’t really rained since we arrived over 2 weeks ago, but last night and this morning made up for it all.
I was awoken out of a deep sleep by a frighteningly loud noise (especially since I was deep under the covers in mom’s bed). It seemed that the sky opened up and dumped all the water in the whole world on us for the next 8 hours. It was so loud I couldn’t even sleep, and I can sleep through anything! There were also bright flashes of light, mom calls this lightning, which made me even more scared (which really isn’t saying much because I’m literally scared of everything).
So the rain fell and it fell. And when the rain comes for that long it makes a big mess here in Mwanza. You see, our roads are mostly dirt and so they get puddles and holes and sometimes even become rivers themselves. Sometimes it’s so bad that it’s just not possible to get anywhere because everywhere you look is gushing water.
They have giant gutters on the side of the paved roads to try to help the rain/road situation (in fact, that’s how mom sprained her ankle on her birthday, by falling into one of the giant gutters). But where we live, there’s no paved road and no gutter and so the rain just flows freely.
So here’s what happened this morning, we got up like usual and I was excited to go out and do my business, but the minute mom opened the door, my plans flew out the window and I ran straight back to bed. Like I said, I DON’T poop in the rain.
Then mom, like she thinks I’m stupid or something, calls me in her best singsong voice. But I’m no dummy, I know a trick when I hear one. So I stayed put there on mom’s bed and didn’t come like the good dog that I am. But darn it, my mom is persistent. She came and picked me up and tried to make me go outside, but I struggled and cried and in the end I won (like ALWAYS).
Get it through your head mom, I DON’T POOP IN THE RAIN. Look, even Twiga has something to say about it:
Oh and in case you forgot, I’m Tanzanian now, and I don’t go out in the rain.
End. Of. Story.