Thursday, July 17, 2014


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.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Do Pdogs Eat Crow?

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.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Hello Spring!

Now haven't the last few days been fine?  Sunshine and 70s in February--who'd ever thunk it?  Makes us all restless here in the Pdog town, ready to get out amongst 'em, even though there's not much sprouted for grazing.  Best to lay abed 'til the grass grows, don't you know, but it's a sight hard to hibernate with the ground warming.

Last few weeks, now, they was just right--lots of snow cover, dark skies--just the kind of winter blanket ol' Ma Nature puts on right fine.  Great weather for winter dreams.  Now you two-legged critters, I never could figure you.  Fightin' the snow, scrapin' it down to ice and then slip-sliding all over to get where you just gots to go.

Don't you know?  Winter is for dreamin', deep down under cover in Ma Nature's arms.  Bodies quiet and content on last year's supper, down deep away from Pa Winter's temper, the stab of ice, slash of wind.  Deep, down deep, where the earth lies still and quiet, and only the temblor comes knocking to remind us that nothing stays perm'nent like--not even deep deep down.

But it's coming.  Spring.  I feel it in my fur.  The tulips are racin' the daffy dillys, I swear, and you know they's all going to get nipped--always do.  That old roarin' Polar Express has laid down perm'nent tracks in this here prairie country and pays us visits pert regular, but it's got no station house here--don't stay.  Just passes on through.  So, we got us some cold spells still to come--still winter, don't you know--but spring is raring to go.  The birds know.  Even those daffy dillys know.  I know.

Seedtime and harvest are a'comin', sure as this ol' blue ball keeps turnin'.  Don't you fret none 'bout that dern ol' Polar Express.  This here station's just a stop on the line, and the station master's puttin' up new curtains that shore look like spring.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Still Kickin'

Man, it has been a long time since this ol' Pdog found his way up the Pdog hole.  The fur was flyin' down below this year, what with the earth shakin' and the dust blowin' and the rain comin' all unexpected like.  Drought and flood--that's Oklahoma for you.  And them tremors rattlin' the windows and collapsing tunnels.  We spent a heck of a lot of time rebuilding, pushing dirt and herdin' young'uns.

Ol' Mom Earth is tired of us, you know.  Rollin' her shoulders and grumblin' and itchin' to throw us off.  It's shaky for us'uns living down under, and I look at the weather and just gotta shrug and say, Who Knows?  You know?  Ol' Farmer K, he gave it up this year, moved into town close to the kids and we're watchin' that real estate sign blow and wonderin' what's comin' next. 

Hennessey's on the move, new motel in town, new buildin' going on, lots of folks comin' and goin' and lookin' up at that glory of a sky and those calico sunsets and sayin' they's found home.  Here in the Pdog town, we don't know what to make of all that.  There's hope in the air, even with the dust and the dirt tremors and I gotta tell you, that's catchin'.  This ol' Pdog grumbles and mumbles and wonders where it'll all end, but I been around a long time, longer time than you'd expect from an old Pdog, and I'm still here and the Pdog town's still here and that human town is still here and there's new pups this spring, so I s'pose we's on the rise.

 I'm guessin' spring'll come and it'll rain again, one of these days.  I just wish that dang ol' polar express'd move its station.