So. Last night, around midnight, as one was wandering the house, turning off the lights, ensuring the coffee pot was loaded, that the animals were all fed and nothing was laying about that they could destroy, I knew the weather was in for a shift. My bones were throbbing, my leg and hands were stupid and swollen, my throat was itching. I assumed it meant we were in for a small shower, or maybe that it would dip from the 60 degree weather that’s been the norm lately down to 40 or 50.
When I was awakened at five by the wonderful sensation of 70 pounds of coyote landing in my crotch to inform me “Hey, dad. Dad. Dad. Dad, hey, daddy, I wanna go outside, kay?!” – which, as far as alarm clocks go, is an amazing one – and stumbled tohis leash so that he might be led to his poopin’ place with a minimum of fuss, I looked out the window.
Yeah. Because, Nevada. Happy March, everyone. *twitch, twitch*