It was a dark and stormy night, wind shrieked past the corners of the stuccoed dwelling splattering the driving rain onto the freshly washed windows. When, oh when would she learn to wait until April to wash those panes of glass which so lovingly let the coveted morning light shine into the familial home (for it is in San Diego that our scene lies).
But in San Diego it doesn't rain, or it hadn't rained much more than the usual 10 inches or so annually until a year ago when the family obtained the two tiny balls of white Maltese fluff... the same fluffs who don't care to get their manicured toes wet when it's time to "do their business". The same fluffs who stand outside past bedtime on the soggy lawn (but not alone... no never alone...) with the somewhat impatient mother whose hair is wet even with the hooded protection of a somewhat too thin jacket. She stands there, coaxing the little fluffs, telling them that it will be a long night and that they should "go" now. But they are more interested in the flying leaves and the strange feeling of wind and rain on their teddy bear-like faces. Finally they are done and the mother returns with the wet and "not-so fluffy" Maltese fluffs to the warm and aromatic house.
With full bellies and happy heads, the family slept through the remainder of the storm awaking to gleaming but streaky windows and welcoming a new day.


