I have a motto about rainy days and walking corgis: you go out once, you go out for a long time, you come home and wash'em, and then you stay in. Today happens to be a rainy day up here in Alberta, as was yesterday, and so will tomorrow. So instead of doing our usual 2-3 20/30 minute daily walks, we went to an off-leash ravine trail (10 minute drive from our house) for 1 1/2 hours, just to make sure she was good and tired so we didn't have to go out again today. Once she was sufficiently tired and dirty from the rain/mud and from running around in the ravine, we headed home.

Upon arrival, we get out of the garage and head back to the house (she is off-leash). I open up our side-door and start calling to Casey to come inside. She stands there with the most pitiful look on her face, like she's about to walk down death row.

"Come-on, let's GO" I say, trying to hustle her inside. I'm standing there getting rained on waiting for her to hustle her butt inside. She slowly makes her way to our back-step, and then stands there again, looking at me like she's going to the guillotine.

"OK, Inside!" I say. She slowly walks up the back steps, then stands at the top looking around for an escape route.

"What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?" I exclaim. "INSIDE!" She stands there for another 3 or 4 seconds, weighting her options, then slowly makes her way into the house.

Smart damn dog - the second we get inside and my coat is off, she is whisked away to the basement wash basin where she spends the next 10 minutes of her life getting a thorough scrub down to wash all the mud, grim and grit off her legs and belly. Next time, she'll be leashed on the walk in.