It was still raining cats and squirrels when we woke up in the Walmart car kennel. Mom sat in bed, gazing sadly out the window like she was in a 90s music video.
"I can't make my coffee in this," she moaned, and the injustice of it all added some stiffness to her spine. "Breakdowns may take our time and we may have to live like vagabonds, but dognabbit," she thumped the table, "this trip was supposed to be about running and hiking, and that's what we're going to do. Rain or shine."
She said it through her teeth, which means that life coaches should butt out or play along. "Hear hear!" I wagged obediently.
The roof cheered her on and a zillion raindrops streamed down the windows for a peek at greatness... or maybe it was foolishness they were drooling for.
Mom threw back the blankie triumphantly. "But first, coffee!"
The car-house splashed out of the Ritz of car kennels and found a much cozier kennel down the street. It stopped beside the gigantic lake covering where the best parking spots belonged. The warm glow from the Starbucks on the far shore twinkled on its ripples like fool's gold.