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.

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.

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.

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.

Toast

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.

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.

Drought

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.

Brrrrrrrrrr!. . .

Frizzle me whiskers! It's cold!

What kind of deal is this? Warm days and those infernal doves wake me up early, and then this! Snow down the Pdog hole. Temperatures dropping so low that the thermo-thingys are all bustin'. Wind whistlin' over our heads like some kind of banshee. Pups tryin' to check out all that white stuff. Can't feel my toes, they's so froze. I tell you, livin' in Oklahoma is just a powerful trial.

I'm tellin' you, though, this here's just some kind of a-bearation, not natural, some kind of out-of-fur experience, don't you know? Throws us prairie prognosticators all into a tizzy tryin' to keep up. But I still hold to my word. This ol' winter's going to stay with us a bit, but we won't have much of this kind of foolishness--just your normal Okie up and down 'til we get a late spring start on the twisters.

Not much of a way to start life in a new burrow, though. Heck of a deal...

Tough Year

We hear tell how you two-footed folks have been having a rough time topside what with the economy and all. Well, let me tell you; it's been no picnic around the Pdog town this year either. I give it up in early October and put in for early hibernation. Glad to see that ol' year gone.

First off, you know there's no prairie dogs in Kingfisher County. Well, not official-like, anyhow. Ol' Mr. Farmer K and my buddies, we've got us this agreement. He don't tell folks we're underfoot and, well, we just don't get underfoot. Keep the burrows at fair to middlin', don't get greedy for forage, that kinda thing. Stay outta his hair.

It works out good for us, too, don't you know? Most ol' boys got three or four Pdog Mamas keepin' 'em in line. Me, I just got the one and all the pups. But, you see, it's them pups that got us into hot water. We've had us some good size litters these last two years, got powerful crowded below ground. I'm digging and tunnelin' and doin' my dead level best to keep the hills few and far between and all the time it's gettin' more and more crowded. Them older pups growed like turnips in the rain and they's startin' to get downright snarly. It were pert obvious somethin' had to change.

Long about May or there'bouts, by your kinda reckonin', I get up one morning and, lo and behold, no pups. No big 'uns anyhow. It's dern quiet down below. Those boys had took off in the night and gone out to the edge of town and dug up ol' Farmer K's back pasture for a prairie dog town. Now there's several things wrong with that move. First off, it puts Farmer K in mind of us when we'd just as soon lay low. Second, those boys built in his canola field and he was gettin' mighty close to harvest. First year for him to try it, canola, and he was pretty touchy about interference.

We knew we was in trouble but figured that those boys'd come on back to town when the machinery started runnin' in that field. They know what machinery'll do to a Pdog. But we never figured on the deer. You see, deer seem to dearly love that canola, come in the night and chow down by the dark of the moon, but they hadn't made much headway in that field, hadn't got Farmer K's dander up none, though he sure didn't like 'em out there.

Those young pups came out curious one of them nights, wanted to see what those big bucks were up to. Derned if they weren't up to chasin' prairie dogs. I tell you it t'were awful, the slippin' and sliding, the squeals and snortin', the downright devastation. Looked like a war zone before it was over. Bent stalks, tore up dirt. You just wouldn't believe what a few Pdogs and a deer or two or three can do.

I thought we were done for fer sure. Farmer K was boilin', got out his tractor and plow and came after our town. Just tore it up bad and him a'swearin' all along. Nobody hurt but we was refugees. I can tell you it were a sad sight to see, all these little Pdogs with their belongings tied in bundles on their backs hitch-hikin' down the road. Didn't know where we was goin' and weren't sure where we was when we got there. Ain't about to tell you where we ended up. Life's just that way.

Anyhow, we's settled now and I 'spect them young 'uns'll never do nothin' that foolish again, but there's a whole new crop of pups comin' up behind them and, you know, it's just out there to be done over again. You can tell 'em the tale as many times as you please, but they always gotta learn it for theirselves.

Crow Pie

Well now, consarn it, can't a feller be wrong ever now and then? I mean, this ol' Pdog is just a regular critter like the rest of y'all, you know? I guess that extra long fall threw me off my form just a bit, confused me like, maybe. Mama Pdog is just makin' me miserable over it. Didn't even hibernate this year. Just stayed up and played with the pups 'til the snow hit and then had to wake me up to point out just how wrong I could be. Danged females anyway.

This Okie weather is one for the books. First, that derned Christmas Eve snow and now this dagnabbit Spring Blizzard. Makes me just feel foolish, don't you know? And I didn't get much shut-eye this winter neither. Pups tumblin' over one another, Mama Pdog off in a huff, last year's babies anxious to get out on their own--makes for one crowded Pdog hole, I can tell you.

But, I gotta say that the crocus was bloomin' in January and the birds was all come back from down south, so I weren't the only one to get it wrong. I tol' Ma that spring really did come early, it was just those cold snaps I predicted all got together to make me look bad.

She just asked me how I'd like my slice of crow pie.

Brrrrr....

Oh, man! This is just what happens when you don't get down to the business of hibernating early on. It has been just double-dog cold down the pdog hole. That extra long warm fall caught us all unawares, you know? Sunny days and warm nights. Couldn't pass up those extra seeds and grasses. Got plum fat. Mama Pdog had got all soft and round and I'll be darned if I wasn't feelin' pretty mellow, then Ouch! Down went them temps like a deflated balloon and here I sit wide-awake and freezin'. Shoulda sacked out when I had the chance.

Mrs. Pdog has taken a notion that she wants a Christmas tree like those two-legged critters up topside. Where does she get such foolish ideas, I wonder? She's drug in some sticks of red cedar and stuck some berries or something all over. Just makes me itchy. Think I've got me one of them prairie doggone allergies. Dang rash just under the fur. Makes me powerful testy.

Tol' the missus that she could stay up all winter if she had a mind to, but, me? I'm burnin' daylight and gotta hit the sack.

Y'all stay warm this winter, now. Drive careful when the ice hits. Always does, you know. I'll be up before that Punxsutawney fellow and tell you just what I think about next year's spring, but right now I'm takin' my itchy little body down deep and chasin' me a nap!

Uh oh--Where'd the Summer Go?

Gotta tell you, it's been a quiet summer down the pdog hole. Dern hot to start with. Just laid around and cooked for days. For sure, you could smell simmering pdog all round the town. Even the hawks headed for shade and we weren't too sure but the end was on its way.

'Course I told folks they didn't have to worry. All things pass, even scorchers under the sun. And sure enough, we've got them autumn rains freshenin' up everything now. Roses are puttin' on their last flashes of bloom and the grasses are growin' tall and sweet. It's a good time, time for takin' stock, you know? Totin' up the summer and checkin' the storerooms.

I'm telling you, this ol' boy didn't get a whole lot done this year. Gotta get after it now to make it through the winter. All of us workin' together. You gotta keep together if you want to make it through the tough times, you know. Watch those skies and look out for one another.

You never know what the weather's going to do.

Whoa, Nelly!

Tornadoes in February? Who'd a'thought it? Man! when I called up an early spring, I didn't figure on this! Mama Pdg is enjoying the crocus and tells me the daffodils are not only up but getting ready to bloom. What'd I tell you?

February 5th, the way you folks reckon, some time in the night, spring came tippy-toeing in. I felt it down in the burrow, slipped up topside and smelled it coming, wet and warm and early. The birds come in that night, the robins and the doves and those dang grackels. Dove song makes me misty, but those dang grackels just give me the calf back shivers.

Don't you get all excited and put out those tender plants yet, though. This is Oklahoma, don't you know. There's still cold weather ahead and, I'm tellin' you--watch out for that late freeze. It'll get you every time!

Karaoke, Anyone?

Oddest thing happened the other day, before all the ice came in--when it was still a warm Okie January day. There's this feller comes over to the pdog holes and sets out little microphones. We all wonder what the heck he's up to. Keep real quiet down below. You never know what kind of fool trap some of them human critters is going to come up with next. Don't want to end up in some pet store cage, y'know?

Anyhow, didn't seem too threatening, so we checked it out, talked it over, played with it a bit. Thought we might get up a quartet or two and try howlin' at the moon like the coyotes, but decided that might not be the best idea a pdog could come up with. The guy came back just before the ice came in. Guess he'd listened to his radio and figured he'd better collect his gear.

Come to find out, those human critters are studying our lingo! Imagine that? There's this Slobodchikoff feller out at Northern Arizona University who's researching our system of communication. Thinks we're smart! Huh! Coulda told him that if he'd come around these parts.

Sure wish now we'd got that quartet together.