What Winter?

Doggone if I can figure out what's goin' on up topside.  We Pdogs bed down in the fall, you know--sleep like the world's gone dark and 'tain't comin' light again--ya'll know what I mean.  But how the heck can a Pdog sleep when the temps keep jumpin' like crickets on asphalt?  Derned if I know what's goin' on.

We had a nice cold spell, you know, round about Halloween, but then if it weren't spring in Oklahoma, I've never seen it.  Days in the 50's, nights just tappin'  freezing.  The crocus are confused and the daffodils too early.

And wet?  Nice.  Can't complain there, though ol' Mama Pdog says she thinks I could find something wrong with Pdog heaven.  But no, cain't complain 'bout the rain and fog and that little sugar sprinkle we got of snow.  Changes afoot.  Mark my words.  Lots of changes comin'.

Since I'm up, I meandered over to see Miss Mary at the library and doggone if she ain't gone!  Yes, sir, retired and off to Enid.  That's a mite too far for this ol' Pdog to travel, so I guess I'll just have to wish her Godspeed and get to know the new lady running the show.  Changes comin', yes siree, don't you know.  She don't speak Pdog, I guess, and I cain't get in to post my prediction for this year.  Gotta do it here.

So here we go:

Spring is here.  How's that for dancin' on thin ice?  Sure, we'll have some cold spells--ol' winter easing up alongside Missy Spring, but more warm than cold.  It'll be a tussle 'til that ol' grouch packs up his icy fog and stomps over the hill.  But summer, now--there's the problem.  Summer out here on the plains is gonna be hellacious, you mark my word. Hot?  Why the devil himself canceled all Oklahoma reservations this year, so whatever devilment we get into, well, it's all of ourselves, and that's the truth.

Ya'll be good, now.  We got no excuse. 

Crow Pie

Do Pdogs eat crow?  Well, now, not normal like, but sometimes...

Well, doggone it all, I was wrong.  Yep, I'll own up to it, though the feathers are a mite stuck in my throat.  I swear I felt the spring a'comin' in, but that dad blamed ol' man winter plumb flummoxed me good, let me tell you.  Yeah, that late freeze caught us all, up and about with burrow fever and above ground way too soon.  Then there was the rain.

Couldn't never tell when a nice day was going to turn nasty, don't you know.  We'd be a'creepin' out of the burrows, checkin' the sky, and the sun would be all smiley and nice, and then, Bam!  Thunder clouds rollin' in, and them wind blasts so strong they'd blow over a silo or two.  And, sure nuff, they did!  Well, least wise, they pulled 'em up a roof or two.  No twisters though.  Well, doggone if that weren't a surprise.

But July is upon us and the fields they've  been cut and there's them seeds to be had and tasty other goodies to warm a vegetarian Pdog's stomach.  The grass is high and life is good.  I 'spose I can eat a little crow now and again.  Them words may be a mite bitter, but Truth--oh, yes--Pdog Truth is sweet.

After Long Sleep...

It was a hard year, last year.  Lots of commotion above ground and Pdogs layin' low, you know, trying to make ourselves scarce as the two-legged folk stormed and fussed.  Can't be too careful when you live by the goodwill of the man who plows the land.  There weren't much I wanted to say and I didn't.  Pdogs can be that way, you see.

Let me tell you, now, I don't know why I'm awake this time of year, anyhow.  'Spose to just open one eye and make my prediction then snooze on 'til spring.  But how's a fella to sleep through winter when that blame sun keeps warmin' the dirt?  First thing it's warm, then 'fore you know it, brrrr....  But wait a bit, 'cause it's going to get toasty again--you know what I mean?  Fella can't get no rest.  Seems like we don't get no winters no more, not to speak of.

Everthing's topsy above ground and that keeps us stirred up too.  Crazy, mixed-up weather and the ground shakin' below.  We figured it to be only a passing irritation, you know?  Curious how the rattlin' started, but the thing is, it ain't stoppin'.  Dig me a new tunnel one day and dirt's down the next.  Mighty irritating.  Down right consternating.  We's just holdin' on down here, hopin' things'll settle down a mite by spring.

And it's comin' early.  I swear it.  I feel it in my frizzled fur.  You just wait and see.

October Song

Here I rest, kicked back under this hazy sky, just a-listenin' to the crickets sawin' away and the singin' grass.  Got me a good buddy who says he's been up in the two-legged critters' neck of the woods and heard him string-sounds that could make a growed-up Pdog cry.  A harp, they calls it.  But he don't think it much at all set up next to this here prairie and the wind.

Days is gettin' short in these parts and this ol' Pdog is gettin' a mite testy, ready for the long sleep, you know?  The warm Dark, deep down away from winter's fierce ol' bite.  But not yet.  No, sir, I got to enjoy these last sweet days from brim to dregs before I sleep.  All my little mamas are fussin' around gettin' their nests just right--you know how it is.  Leaves me time to set out and listen to the birds callin' their young'uns in for the trek south.  Always wondered what it's like--south.  Them birds sing of hot days and warm water and the rough flyin'.  'Course this ol' Pdog cain't fly--cain't even imagine what that'd be like, you know?  Up there lookin' down and singin' on the wing.

Well, I 'spect the ground's good enough for the likes of me.  Soft and dark and deep.  Heck, I'm gettin' down right drowsy just thinkin' on it.  Time to tuck in and let that ol' north wind sing me to sleep.

All Shook Up

Now what was that all about?  We got dirt droppin' from the ceilings, we got cracks in the floors.  I swear that new tunnel I started last fall is right close to half closed down.  A feller drops off to hibernate and the whole dad-gum place gets shook to pieces.

We got us an oil rig out here in the pasture, trucks comin' and goin' and noise and lights all the time.  Makes it dern hard to get any winter shut-eye for an ol' Pdog, gotta tell you.  Rumblin' and grumblin' and commotion all the time--we got it hard out here in the middle of nowhere.  We's become somewhere all on a sudden, and it's sure a sight to see--all's those young buck two-legged critters swarmin' round.  Gotta say, though, it's been a lot quieter here lately.  Don't know what's goin' on up there in the human world, but we not got near as much excitement out here since I opened my eyes on spring as when I closed 'em on winter. 

We got us lots of pups this year.  I picked me up a couple more cute little young mamas last summer, what with the grass bein' so green and tall.  All's that rain we got last year put the life back in us, don't y'know?  Started lookin' up at the blue sky 'stead of our dusty little Pdog toes.  Gotta tell you though, those li'l darlins turned right fierce once they holed up in their nursery burrows.  Best time for hiberatin' is when the mamas are havin' pups.  Howsomever, it won't be long before we'll all be up and out into the sunshine and kissin' and groomin' and doin' what Pdogs do when the grass grows tall.

We've had hard times and the ground shakin' makes us plumb nervous, but there's pups comin' up and an early spring promising an early summer and new whiskers in old burrows and I just gotta stretch myself and look up into the sun and say, "Ain't that just fine."

What Is That Wet Stuff Anyway?

Now how long has it been since we've seen rain like we've had this spring?  Well, that's too long!  Yessir, the fields are awash in water and, down the prairie dog hole, we're looking at putting in one of them there cabanas to go with our underground swimmin' hole.    We've been packing the walls for the last year or so, trying to keep that blame frack water out of our livin' room, but this here stuff is the real thing.  Clean, pure, real honest-to-Pdog-golly H2O.

'Bout time.  We figured we's going to dry up and blow off to Kansas.  Scrawny little pups and not much forage out there in the fields to fatten 'em up.  Mama Pdog kept grumbling that we oughta light out for Nebraska, don't you know?  But me and my Pdog buddies, we per-ser-vered.  Yes, sir.  Sat tight and kept on keeping on keeping an eye on the sky, a nose to the ground, and an ear to the wind.  Waitin' for that first drop of rain.

Well, we got that first drop.  Time and again.  We just didn't get the second or third until this year, and now, we's kicked back, soggy below ground, green above and watchin' that wheat.  With ol' Farmer K gone, we's been pretty sparse on the pickin's out in the field.  Canola just ain't to our likin', you know?  You get used to those tasty sprigs of wheat and nothin' much else looks good to you.

We got us a young 'un out here workin' Farmer K's fields.  He comes out right regular, checks the wheat, squints at the sky, and lets a bit of a smile kinda ease that worry crease a bit.  Leaves us alone, and that sure eases our worry crease.  We're bettin' he's going to be a good 'un, take care of the land and be a good neighbor.  Maybe let us fatten up a bit.

We got plenty to be grateful for, and this here rain is just a start.

Br-r-r-r-r!

Frizzle me whiskers, it's cold!  Who'd ever'a thunk it?  Temps down in the 60's after the 4th of July and rain like...well, enough to make ol' Noah nervous.

We've had such a dang strange spring with winter all cross-wise and slow to move on, then hot, dry days blastin' what grass we had and burnin' up ever-thing.  Dried up, we were, the lakes lookin' like ponds and the ponds not more than puddles, and nary a puddle to be found.  We figured we were fixin' to have a scorcher and then the rains came.  And came.  And came.  And now they's well nigh to washing us away.

Just goes to prove that here 'bouts you can't give up on ol' Ma Nature, no sir.  Just when you think you're done for, finished, down to your last straw, she turns on you, just like she turned to put you there.  Nothing goes on forever, not the bad, not the good.  You just got to hold on, can't let nothin' take you down, gotta keep on waitin' for that first drop of rain.

Down here in Pdog town, we's missin' Farmer K.  That ol' man'd be out here jiggin' in the mud, so full up with this here rain, he'd be.  The fields are full of grass, tall and heavy, 'cause nobody's had a mind to mow or plow or set critters on it to graze.  It's good for us, of course, not bein' disturbed, and that sign that says this land is for sale is pert well hid by the grass and that's fine with us.  You never know what folks are goin' to be like, whether they'll take to a Pdog town where there's not 'sposed to be any Pdogs, you know?  Ol' Farmer K, he just let us be and we was careful to keep our little village small so's not to be too noticed.  Ever time one of those big white cars comes up and folks step out to look us over, we lay low and get right nervous.  Heard a lot of big tales about what some kind of two-legged critters does to Pdog towns.  'Tain't purty.

But we gotta trust that whatever comes, we'll get by.  Ol' Ma Nature got a way of lookin' out for her critters in the hard times, and we gotta just remember the rain on dry ground and go on our Pdog business enjoying the grass and the sun and bein' just us out here on the land.  Whatever comes will come but we got today and today is mighty fine.