A Meow in the Rain

The sky, which had been a cheerful, cloud-dusted blue just moments before, decided to throw a tantrum. Fat, splattering drops of rain began to fall, each one hitting the pavement with a determined splat. Buddy, who had been happily trotting alongside Mittens, his tail giving a hopeful little wag at the thought of more adventures, suddenly felt a cold dread creep into his furry chest. The city, which had seemed so exciting when the sun was out, now looked like a giant, dripping, gray monster.

“Oh, fiddlesticks!” Mittens grumbled, her fur instantly flattening as the rain plastered it to her skin. She peered through the downpour, her usually sharp eyes struggling to focus. “This is not ideal, dog. Not ideal at all.”

Buddy whimpered, pressing himself against Mittens’ flank, trying to absorb some of her calm, or at least her dry fur. But Mittens was no longer dry. The rain, coming down in sheets now, was turning the streets into miniature rivers. Buddy’s paws, usually so sure-footed, were slipping on the slick cobblestones. He could barely see Mittens, who was now a blurry silhouette beside him.