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.