Carol Reiter: Big, silly dogs can make me feel guilty

My dogs are really, really good at making me feel guilty.

This week, when the rains came, I had made the mistake of leaving Len in his kennel.

Let me clear something up first. Lenny has not just one, but two doghouses in his kennel. One is a very well-made wooden one and the other is an expensive plastic one that's actually big enough for two Lens.

On that rainy day, when I got home, I went out to let the dogs in. There was Len, in his kennel, soaked to the bone. His ears were flat, and his eyes were big and black and accusing.

I let him out of his kennel without saying anything to him, because I knew he was trying to play the pity card. So he slunk up the stairs of the back porch and stood at the back door of the house, waiting for the big mean human to let the poor innocent freezing dog into the house.

But I told him he had to shake some of that rainwater off first. I went to let Jan and Peg out of their kennel, and saw that the two girls were smart enough to stay out of the wet. Of course, about three-fourths of their kennel is covered, plus they each have their own doghouse, so they have no reason to be wet.

Moss, on the other hand, has the entire backyard to spend his day in. He obviously had a wonderful time that day, racing back and forth in the mud, getting soaked and filthy. He was so, so happy to see me, and I was trying to avoid his wet, dirty body.

I dodged Moss and waited for Jan and Peg to check out the yard and make sure no cats had set up shop while the two girls were trapped in their kennel all day. When they were finished, I started to open the door, then I saw that Len was still dripping water.

I put my hand in front of Lenny's face and told him to stay. I let Moss, Peg and Jan in the house, and grabbed an old towel from inside the house to try and dry Len off.

He stood perfectly still, trying to make his eyes look sad. I told him he had to try a little harder, no one in their right mind would let a sopping wet dog in the house, and he had better try a little harder next time to stay out of the rain.

After I got Lenny a bit drier, I let him in with the rest of the dogs. Peg and Moss ran for their crates, ready for their nightly treat, and Len headed for the couch.

When I was ready for bed, I realized I was missing a dog. Jan was sound asleep on my bed, on her fleecy throw, and Peg and Moss were enjoying the last of their chew treats.

But there was no Lenny. Normally the big lug sleeps on the floor right next to my bed so I have to watch where I'm stepping. Not that night.

So I called Lenny. No dog. I went down the hall, and looked into the living room. My poor pitiful dog was lying on the couch, with his head on the arm of the couch, and he had his back to me. I called him again, but he ignored me.

So I walked around in front of Lenny. He tried to ignore me, but I told him he was being a big drama king and to get off the pity pot before I knocked him off. And by the way, get off the couch too.

My poor dog slid off the couch, and down the hall. I headed back down the hall, and looked to see if Lenny was on his bed. He was already snoozing, having forgotten how mad he was at my insistence on him being semidry before coming in the house.

Lenny tries hard to make me feel guilty, but I usually don't buy it. Well, sometimes I do. The next day, when it rained again, I left Len in the house because I didn't want him to sit out in the rain again.

So I guess Len won. He may have had to endure a day of wet, but he won in the end. He got to spend his day in the warm house while the rest of the dogs were outside in the cold and wet. All because I felt guilty about a big, silly dog who was too dumb to get out of the rain. Or maybe he was too smart to get out of rain. After all, look where he ended up on the next rainy day.

Reporter Carol Reiter can be reached at (209) 385-2486 or creiter@mercedsun-star.com.