Winter has definitely arrived. The sky is grey, and sporadic bursts of icy rain are pattering against the skylights. A thick mist presses against the windows, and I'll bet there's snow on the mountains. Bao is sleeping, stubbornly.

His body language is unmistakable. No, he is saying. I will not get up and go out for a walk in the wet and the cold. If you want to go out and pee, go right ahead.

True confessions. I didn't want to get out of bed either, this morning. It is cold. (Well, cold by southern Arizona standards) And wet. But it could be worse, I tell Bao. We could be in Oklahoma. Or Alaska. And besides, there's a drought. We need the rain. We almost always need the rain here in Tucson.

The rain stops. Bao opens one eye.

Come on, I say. It's only rain. We're not made of sugar. We won't melt.

No way. He's gone back to sleep.