DOGGONIT!

The phrase echoed through the night air. It was a familiar voice. It rang out from the back of the house. It was ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. I was at the street in front of the house, bringing the trash out. I quickened my pace toward the back door. "DOGGONIT! It's RAINING! DOGGONIT!..." He must have repeated himself five times or more. I imagined sleeping neighbors turning over in their beds and cursing us. I anticipated the chain reaction dog barking episode that might follow over the next hour. I wondered, "WHERE IS THAT BOY'S MOTHER?!!" (She was trying to wrestle Evan, by the way, who was trying to get into something in the bathroom) I came around the corner of the back patio and made eye contact with Nathan. "WHAT are you doing?!" I asked quietly but forcefully. He gave me his serious face, though it was softened by my own frustration, and said in a loud whisper, "DOGGONIT! It's RAINING!" I took a deep breath and said quietly, "Go in the house, son." He took a deep breath and said quietly, "Yes, sir." I think he got it.