Rainy Days

I wake to the sound of cascading water. The rain pounds the roof, runs into the clogged gutters and roils over the gutter edge in a waterfall. It surges down the side of the house next to my bedroom window. I think, time to clean the gutters. I glance at the clock on my bedside table. It is still early; barely 6:30 in the morning. The dogs breathe their heavy, whistling breath. My husband snorts in his sleep and rolls over. The house feels cold and I realize that the wood stove has gone out. It is tempting to lay in bed, listening to the rain as it drums the roof and overflows my gutters.

A cold nose slips beneath the blankets, snorts a greeting.

“Hey, Boubou.” I rub my dog’s face and breathe in her warm scent.

Time to start my day.

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