Weather Forecasting (Who Needs a Groundhog?)

 

I don’t need a groundhog to make weather predictions on my farm.  My dogs and horses tell me when the weather is going to change.  And they tell me in a way that I can’t possibly ignore. 

If I look out the window and see a herd of horses, galloping full speed with tails streaming behind, I know a cold front in moving in.  It’s not like when they are running away from something – because they immediately turn around and run back the other way.  There is usually some bucking and jumping and farting (if you are not familiar with horses, they tend to do that when they buck a lot).  Even the horses in barn are hyper-sensitive to the wind and changes in weather.  It’s hard to get any serious riding done during those days, unless you enjoy lots of head tossing and prancing.  And it brings extra challenges to outdoor horse shows.

At least the horses are outside.  The dogs are another matter altogether.  For the last four days last week, my dogs were in a constant state of perpetual motion.  Scout, still a mischievous baby who weighs just under 40 pounds, has been especially prone to running amuck.  His adventures seem to escalate in the night, when he prowls the house searching for potential toys.   Wednesday morning, I encountered an obstacle course in the living room.   The dogs’ water dish, the laundry basket still full of clothes, another laundry basket that formerly held shoes, the broom and dustpan, plus four pair of shoes and two orphan shoes I can’t find the mate for, the dog brush, the phone and a paperback book.

Wednesday afternoon, we had company.  Friends brought their children to the farm to see the horses.  Scout was an embarrassment.  Totally out of control, he jumped on everyone, including the children who didn’t weigh any more than he does.  They were not afraid, and they enjoyed feeding treats to the horses, who were much better behaved than he was.  Sophie tried to set a good example – she was sweet to the little girls, but Scout had to be banished to the outdoors.  Now I know how people feel when their children run wild in the grocery store.

Wednesday night, Scout and Sophie spent thirty minutes running around and around the couch.  When Sophie got tired, Scout went on a treasure search.  The hammer was the first thing he found, followed by a box of screws.  When I took the screws away, he gave me one of “those” looks and prowled the room searching for a replacement. 

Thursday morning, my bedroom rug was missing.  It had found a new home in the middle of the living room, along with dogs’ water bowl, a screwdriver, my coat and hat, an afghan, two plastic bottles and a paperbook book minus its cover.  He had also demolished most of the dog bed cover and strewn the filling all over the floor.  When Clay tried to sit down on the couch to discuss plans for the day, an avalanche of dogs swarmed over him. 

 While I was gone to town, Scout stole the electric drill from the bathroom where Clay was working, cleared a bookshelf of paperback books and tore the covers off four of them. Clay tried to hide them from me but was forced to confess.  Thursday afternoon, Scout and Sophie got an empty 2-liter bottle out of the kitchen trash and played a raucous game of keep away.  I thought that might be a good thing to occupy them until Sophie flung the bottle into the fireplace.  Luckily the gas logs were not burning  and it bounced back out.  Bear usually doesn’t join in the fun and games, but he was somehow motivated to play “chase around the couch” with Scout.  It was quite a lively game, accompanied by lots of growling, wrestling, body slamming and general mayhem. 

Phoebe hid behind my desk.  Clay’s dog took refuge in a chair and Sophie seemed to want to join in but couldn’t find an opening in the merry-go-round.  Thirty minutes later, I found all the four-legged fiends passed out in various spots around the room.  They looked so sweet and innocent.

 

Around Friday things began to calm down, at least as much as they ever do with a 5-month-old puppy who thinks he owns the house, and three other dogs who live at least part of the time in the house.  When Bear and Sophie have enough of his antics, they take refuge on my bed.  I have noticed that Scout can stand on his hind legs and easily reach the top of the bed.  He is perfectly able to jump up there – he just doesn’t know it yet.  I may need a bigger bed in the near future, probably just about the time we have another cold front moving in.