Get Yer Ball

We've come under a deluge of biblical proportions. Yesterday we were hit for three different thunderstorms each trying to outdo the previous by employing stronger winds, louder thunder and a few flying cows.

I'm guessing some evil mad scientist thinks controlling the weather in Nebraska will get him world domination (never ask when mad scientists are involved) or we've been ordered to return back to a Precambrian ocean. Either way it means we have to get a bit creative with our high strung puppy as she refuses to go outside when it's wet.

Last night my husband thought he'd try to see if she could get her ball out from under the laundry basket. What ensued was well you just have to watch.

We make her do goofy things and preserve them for posterity because it's the only way of getting back at a 3 AM I have to go out potty and run around in the backyard for 10 minutes eating sticks while you wait. You know the same reason parents dress their toddlers in the strangest outfits to embarrass them once they're teenagers.