Ben beats the heat

The summer heat tormenting the rest of the Continental U.S. for weeks finally arrived in Bermtopia a day or so after July 4 and the wettest spring humanly possible.

Not that we're complaining, mind you. . . aside from the fact that, after 5 days of temperatures in the 90s, our upstairs feels like a Hasbro Easy Bake Oven on steroids.

For a long-haired dog, Ben is faring well. He actually loves following the early morning sun spots around the Back Forty, retreating into the shade under the cherry tree when it gets too toasty.

This is a good thing because we simply don't have the heart to give him a summer shave.

It's partly out of vanity. Shaved, I think Ben would look like an unfortunately crazed cross between a meerkat and hyena.

And it's partly out of sympathy. Guaranteed: Tacking on any amount of extra time at the groomer's would put Ben around the bend.

And so this is how we and our four-legged friend navigate the heat: Earlier, shorter walks, plentiful water and more indoor time.

Indoor time. Ben has this nailed.

1. Early morning: The Two-Leggeds' bedroom. Ceiling fan at Mach 10. Check.
1a. Two-Leggeds' computer room. Ceiling fan at Mach 10. Check. . . . or hang on hardwood in dining room where the Two-legged Missus has decamped. (Shhh. She's sweating anyway, but I won't say anything.) Check and double check.
1b. Basement if either of  The Numbers is home. SCORE!

2. Weekday morning waiting for walk: Living room hardwood floors. Kitchen vinyl floor. Repeat living room hardwood floor. Repeat piercing reproachful looks with each rotation.
2a. Weekend variation: Much later in the morning, damnit per Ben. Repeat Weekday morning waiting for a walk. 

Cue very VERY big dog sighs.

3. Rest of a hot day by myself. Retreat to basement if someone has left the door open. (Thank yewwwwww!)


So this is how it's gone for the last, say 11 years? Until this week.

Ben discovered our tiled front door entry way -- now known as The Dog Cave. He rarely moves from here when we're home. When we're gone, who knows? He could be playing foosball, turning cartwheels across the futon, and drinking sweet tea in the basement. But I kind of doubt it. This looks like a permanent kind of gig.

Looks like we'll be using the backdoor for the next few weeks.