Just A Wet Dog

So....it rained all night.

And the dogs went out this morning for their early pee break.

They got all wet.

ALL wet.

And so Dad wheels into my office about a half hour ago, in his tidywhities, without his hearing aid (this is key), and yells, "UMA'S (one of the dogs) ALL WET. SHE'S IN THE FIRST STAGES OF HYPOTHERMIA!"

And I answer, "No. She's just wet."

And he says, "HUH!?" (because, of course, his hearing aid isn't in and he can't hear a word I'm saying). Then he turns to wheel out, shaking his head in disgust like he always does when he attempts to have a conversation without his hearing aid.....like it's the other person's fault. Geesh. So irritating.

Before he actually leaves the office, he turns back to me, all huffy and puffy and nose out of joint and skivvies in a bunch and yells, "SHE'S IN THE FIRST STAGES OF HYPOTHERMIA! SHE'S ALL WET! HOW'D SHE GET ALL WET ANYWAY???"

My brain goes into overdrive with all of the possible responses. Hello. We live in the PNW. Or, hello. Dad you just woke up, your brain's not working yet, go back to bed. Or, hello. Dogs get wet. Or, hello. Uma grew up in Michigan. In the snow. Hypothermia? I don't think so.

I opt for the simpler, "She's fine. It's raining."

To which he immediately blares angrily at me, "HUH?!" (because he still can't hear me because....well, you remember)

Then he turns, now completely disgusted and frustrated, and begins to wheel out of the office. Except, as he's turning, the other dog (Emily, also wet, but not, apparently suffering the early stages of hypothermia) steps on Dad's foot, and makes a little skin tear which promptly starts bleeding all over the rug (old people = thin skin = frequent skin tears = lots of blood).

Thus, I've spent the last half hour, bottle of Resolve in one hand, paper towel in the other, cleaning up blood spots and bandaging up Dad's foot.

Oh yeah....Uma's fine.

Wet.

But fine.