Fountains are for drinking, right?
You would think I would have learned by now to predict just what Jake is going to do next.
Nope, although this time I might have if I’d stopped to think about it.
I bought a small fountain last week. It isn’t anything elaborate, just a resin fountain, maybe two feet tall, where one small pot empties into another, into another, and so on. We’ve been talking about building a water garden in our backyard for years and never seem to find the time, energy or money. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that gardening has taken a back seat to riding in recent years.
So this year we started talking about a small fountain to sit on or near our patio, something to sort of fill in the gap until we “eventually” get around to the water garden. I saw one on sale that I thought we’d both like, so I bought it.
We set it up on the weekend. Well, sort of set it up. For the time being we just ran an extension cord until Steve gets whatever he needs to properly deal with the electrical situation.
Jake was watching as we decided where to locate it at one corner of the patio, put it in place, filled it with the watering can that I keep outside and flipped the switch. Steve and I then stood there for a minute or two oohing and aaawing as if it was one of those not so great fireworks displays.
Not Jake. Our practical boy dog trotted up, sniffed at the fountain, which is, of course, just at his height, and decided to take a drink. Steve and I both started to laugh and Jake looked up at us as if to say “It’s a fountain, right, and fountains are for drinking, aren’t they?”
He proceeded to take a slurp just about every time he went outside this weekend.