"I should think not," said Omo. "It seems as bad to be too rich as it is to be too poor. I'll be very careful about shutting the fountain off, and I won't forget to bring back the key. And now how do I get to the city of Ootch?"
"Just open my back door," said the fairy godmother, handing him the key, "step out on the step, and then step off. And I do hope you won't find it raining, for when it rains in Ootch, it rains cats and dogs."
So Omo opened the fairy godmother's back door and stepped out on the step, and as he stood there all he saw before him was a pretty little garden. Then, he stepped off the step, and bing—he was in a queer looking city, and the garden and the back step, and the cottage, and the fairy godmother, had all disappeared. And in addition it was raining cats and dogs; regular, real cats and dogs.
"Ouch!" cried Omo, as a fat maltese fell ker-plunk on his head, yowling like anything. "Whee!" he yelled, as a fox terrier dropped with a thud on his shoulder and barked in his ear. And then, as black, white, brown, yellow cats of every color, and dogs, big, little and medium, began pouring on him and around him, all howling, and barking, and spitting at the same time, he made a rush for a small building, open at the sides but with a dome like roof of metal, where a man was standing.
"Quite a shower, isn't it?" said the man, as Omo reached the shelter.
"A shower," gasped Omo, "why—why, I think it's much more than a shower. And—and look what's coming down—cats and dogs!"
It was raining cats and dogs