Not soon after her husband departed to walk the family dog, Mrs. Webster heard the rain pelt the windowpanes. "Oh my," she commented. "I hope they get back soon."
Instead, her husband walked in the back door almost 20 minutes later, soaked to the skin, leaving his wrecked umbrella at the closed door.
"That damn dog," he muttered as his wife offered him a kitchen towel to wipe his face. He took the towel, wiped his face, and frowned. "Refused to do his business, rain coming down like mad, and he just wanted to sniff every post and hydrant."
"Oh, you poor thing," his wife soothed him. "Go get out of those wet things."
When she caught up to him a short while later, he had stripped off the wet clothes and gotten into his fluffy bathrobe. She entered the room with a mug of hot tea. "I thought this might warm you up," she said.
He took the tea and sipped the warm beverage. "I've made up my mind," her husband said. "Call Frank in the morning and make sure he's still on board."
"He'll be on board," she said.
Her husband moved to the window and look into the backyard. In a flash of lightning, he saw the sheepdog huddled inside the doghouse. He already imagined a nice barbecue pit positioned in the exact location of the doghouse. "We'll just have to sell the boys on this plan," he said.
"I don't think Jared's going to mind," she said. "We'll have to deal with Kevin, but I'm sure he'll come around."
"I'll drive Shaggy to Frank's place tomorrow," Dad decided. "By the time Kevin's home from school, we'll present him with a fait accompli. I'm sure he'll pout, but it's about time he starts growing up."
His wife agreed, as she began to plot borders for a new flower bed and bird bath. Her plans would encroach on her husband's dream of a new barbecue pit, but the logistics could be hashed out later. Right now she was just glad that they wouldn't have the big, always ungainly, often smelly dog underfoot for much longer.