Signs of Spring and Treasure Hunting

All is brown and barren, the air is crisp and cold in the morning even when the sun is shining brightly, and sadly, there are no goat kids this year. But spring is coming anyway! I can tell! The first sign is that the ground has thawed enough for the dogs to dig up their treasures to share with one and all. Where they originally came from and how they remembered where they hid them for the winter is knowledge too deep and wide for me, particularly when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that both of the dogs are terrified of living cows. I'm sure that this disposition comes from having been chased unceremoniously from the neighbor's pasture by a nasty longhorn with a new calf, who proceeded to patrol the fence line all summer. To my knowledge, neither has even come within 100 yards of a cow ever again. But I digress...

I just know that various parts of the bovine skeletal system lay bleached and white on the front yard this morning, in all of their shocking glory, with two very proud doggy treasure hunters showing them off. They look like quite the ruthless killers, bloody pirates, and masked bandits, particularly Sunny, who boasts of having bullied the cat out of his share of the booty.

Breaking and Entering?

It was a raging winding day today. The news said gusts of up to 80 miles per hour, so I think that's what must have blown the door open while I was gone today. I drove up to the house after picking up the girls from piano to find the storm door standing wide open and the hinges bent and beyond repair.

As we entered the house, we were met by the large and welcoming smiles of two dogs and two cats, lounging in the living room like a happy family. Sunny, the greeter, met us at the door, and was shuffled dutifully outside without a complaint. Bloke also seemed genuinely happy to see us, until he realized that he was inviting us in the house, rather than the other way around. His face stood down to the "uh oh, I'm in trouble" pose and he dropped to the floor looking very sad. He trundled out, slow and sorry, indeed. The cats, completely unrepentant, were quickly tossed out and the search for damage began.

A quick survey of the house turned up only one box of breakfast cereal emptied and eaten. Surprisingly, no wet bathroom floors, no hair all over the furniture, no muddy paw prints, no cat paw prints in the butter dish, no trash rifled through, no blankets dragged to the floor, no rumpled beds, none of the usual signs of unauthorized invasion and accompanying frenzied search for treats and toilet drinking. It seems that the little buggers didn't even lay on the couch or beds.

They're sitting outside now looking hopefully in the windows. The consequences of getting in the house illegally are the same, whether they wreak havoc or not--they get tossed out on their collective ears. Sunny has started barking at the house and at Bloke. I wonder if he's regretting not taking liberties when he had the chance.