It's been raining non-stop for days.
The second it starts raining, Monty turns into a princess. He doesn't want to go outside at all. He looks at you with a face that says "How could you do this to me?" when you drag him out the door for a walk.
Making him go to the bathroom is worse.
We laid rock along the side of the house where Monty has "his spot". This way there is no more damaged grass and no more mud. He is thrilled to go to his spot almost any other time. But once it's wet out? He'd rather hold it, thank you very much.
Rather than racing around the corner to the gate ahead of you, he slowly trots beside you hoping you will change your mind and not make him stand on the wet, disgusting rocks.
He delicately places one paw on the rock and holds the other in the air. He sniffs about, procrastinating from the inevitable. One more paw down, the other back in the air. He reminds me of a kid trying to get to their beds without touching the floor.
Finally, I lose my patience with him. "GO already!" He glares at me. Finally he stalks off to a corner, does his thing and stomps back to the gate, ready to go in.
He's such a drama queen.