I was wrong.
See, Pdogs can say that. We's honest critters and know how to stand up on our hind legs, look you square in the eye, and admit to error. None of this "Well, the weather's just hard to figure this year" stuff for an ol' Pdog, no sir. Winter just t'ain't gonna give 'er up easy this year and that's a fact. Four inches of snow hereabouts--great weather for hybernatin'! Only it swings back to warm so quick, keeps this ol' dog discombobulated for sure. All that snow and those cold temps just go to prove, I didn't hit my mark this here year.
Now my granpap Pdog, he was a wonder, I'm here to tell. I swear that ol' dog had weather whiskers. He could tell you almost to the moonrise when spring was gonna hit, and I never seen him wrong. Me, I'm middlin'--had me some good guesses and some bad, but couldn't hold a candle to that ol' dog. He was a good look-out too, don't you know. Set up there on the Pdog hill and twitched those long ol' whiskers, readin' the wind, feelin' for danger. Like long silk straws, they was, those ol' whiskers stickin' out easy to the side of his drawed up face. Wise ol' dog, he had us in in the burrows long before the hawks could score or the coyotes pounce.
Now the way he were took off, that was unnatural, I gotta say. Monkey Pox. Yep. He went down with Monkey Pox and never got up. Never seen nothing like it. There was this cute little female Pdog come up to the town, been turned out by her two-legged owners, you see. She'd been a pet, born on some breeder farm and sold out. They tossed her out down on the road 'cause she's sick. Ol' Granpap, he were a soft-hearted ol' cuss and took her in, bedded her down with his wives and looked after her. Only she got 'em all sick, every one, and we lost that whole bunch.
Monkey Pox. Who'd a thunk it? Pdogs just don't belong in houses with two-legged folks. T'ain't healthy. Sure miss that ol' coot. We all of us do, over here in the Pdog town.
Weather predictin' just t'ain't the same.