Last Monday, I got a text from Noah: “Dove sighted carrying a branch of some kind. Surely the deluge is almost over! Hallelujah!!!” I looked outside at the sheets of sideways rain and felt an inkling of hope that the sun would soon reappear. On Tuesday, however, another text arrived, not from Noah but from his son, Ham: “Pops can’t see straight. No dove! Just an old gull with a Doritos bag.”

Hopes dashed. With a rain-loving dog still jonesing to be out in the elements, I struggled into my allegedly waterproof…