the speed of a fat dog

Day upon Day, I wait. "Will rain fall today?" I ask. This dry kind of air will burn lush grass to a crackly brown. I walk and kick up dust onto my dogs, Rusty and Clara, who long for rain, too. The hollow, hot days slow us both to a crawl.

Is it-that far away spot of gray? I think I spy a small, dark cloud coming toward us, hanging low with-rain! It is a fact-rain is plopping drops on the ground as I watch, still as a rock. My dogs bark as the drops fall, and splat! - right on Clara’s happy snout. Rusty begins to lick the ground.

I cry with joy and stick out my arms, waving both jubilantly, up and down and back and forth.