Wednesday, August 8, 2012


I know I said the summer would be dry, but--Mercy me!--ain't never seen the like of this.  How's a Pdog 'sposed to live?  Think all my fur's fallin' out.

We got dogs in this little village that're packing up and hitchin' rides to Mexico where it's cool.  Gettin' some Pdog sombreros and serapes and learnin' how to yip and hollar in Spanish.  Emmigratin', don't you know? And just the other day, I seen this feller comin' down the road all red-like and with horns, forked tail and pitch fork.  Said he was plannin' an annex on Hell and this Okie country felt about right.

Now, I know you two-legged critters are all exercised about whether we got global warming or not and, if we do,  whether it's ol' Ma Earth in cahoots with that dern sun or you all that's doin' it, and I got me an opinion on that, but I'll just let you folks fight it out amongst you, 'cause I'm here to tell you that I don't think we got a chance of puttin' the brakes on this, whoever or whatever got it started.

There ain't nothin' for an ol' prairie dog to eat but cracklin' corn and dry grass.  I've got so thin, I can shimmy down snake holes.  We had no pups this spring and Mama Pdog is surly and downright unfriendly, so I 'spect there'll be no pups next year neither.  Hard times hereabouts, yessir.

But I been diggin' in red dirt a lot of years, and I can tell you that the grand thing about this ol' state is that there's not nothing alive, two-legged or four, that can tell you what tomorrow's gonna look like.  The fires may get us for sure, or the rain may come again and give us sweet grass to fill our shriveled up little bellies.  Don't you never count us out.  Not so long as a one of us draws breath.

This ol' Pdog ain't goin' nowheres.  See you next spring.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Now That's More Like It

Figgered we'd not make it to summer without a flake or two of snow. This little ol' spring snow event dumped some mighty wet flakes down the pdog hole. Mama Pdog was just like a pup, skitterin' up and scooterin' down all excited like. You'd think she'd never seen the white stuff before. Just makes me smile.

I've heard tell through the old boys that we've got a bit of rain comin' too. Don't that just set us up fine? I've been mighty worried about the crops this year. We foraged pretty hard last year and never did get a belly full. Nothing stays the same long around these parts, and I guess we can all be thankful for that. Nice cold moisture seepin' down through the earth makes this ol' boy drowsy, don't you know? Feel like I might put in a few winks before the sun takes over and cooks us all alive.

Still holdin' to what I said before, howsomever. This ain't winter, folks. I've seen winter, and this ain't it.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012


Times are bad down the Pdog hole, let me tell you. This dern drought has us in mighty tight straits. Not enough moisture in the green goodies for Mom Pdog to make milk for the babies. No babies at all this spring. Can't feed 'em. Old dogs givin' it up, goin' off to that great prairie dog town in the sky. It's bad. Bad as I've ever seen it.

We packed it in early last year, burrowed down deep and tried to sleep through it all. Too hot to cuss. Haven't had much to say for a time. Not feelin' very sociable, don't you know. I don't know where this weather is going, but I can tell you that I'd just as soon not be taking this ride.

I know you two legged critters are troubled about your wheat and your pastures and we're just worried along with you. Everybody down the Pdog hole is up early and out lookin' for green and watchin' for rain. Don't take much to make us happy. A nice spring storm would be a start. Leastwise, if we could get her without a blow.

I can feel it in my poor old bedraggled fur though, we've got bad storms comin' this year, maybe all the way to June. Mrs. Pdog tells me I'm just a pestiferous pessimist, but you mark my words, down deep, the earth is feelin' mighty strange.