Snow

I'm nestled in my nice warm bed. Sleeping. Something stirs the back of my mind. As I drift back toward deep sleep Pam says, "The dog is whining."

I groan.

The dog whining means one of two things. Either the cat has wandered over to the dog's area and the dog wants to play, or the dog thinks she needs to go out.

I glance at the clock. 3:00 AM. The dog whines again. It isn't the play-with-the-cat whine.

I groan.

Pam says, "Kim, the dog's whining."

I listen carefully. I can hear the cat snoring. The cat must be eighteen or nineteen years old and she snores a lot on cold nights.

My brain struggles to awaken. I'm slowly coming to the recognition that if the cat is snoring …

"Kim, are you going to do something about the dog?"

"Mrumph!" I say.

If the cat is snoring, she probably isn't over by the dog. That means …

"Kim, I think the dog needs to go out."

Oh, yes, right. If the cat is snoring, she's not playing with the dog. That means that either the dog wants to go out and chase something or she needs to go out for other reasons.

I sit up in bed, then slowly stand up. The house is cold. I shiver my way into my clothes. It's far to cold outside to make a run for it in my bathrobe.

Pam starts to snore softly.

Why do I have a dog that must be escorted outside? Why can't I just open the door, let her out, wait five minutes, then let her back in like a normal dog?

I make my way to the door and begin to put on my outside clothing. The dog starts bouncing. It's pretty clear she needs to go out.

I open the door to be greeted by a blast of frigid air. It's colder than I thought it was. I step outside. What's this? Snow?

Yup. Snow. Slushy, sleeting snow that has blown into place and frozen. Oh, 95% of the grass is still visible and green, but there is snow on the ground.

The dog charges out and drops to a squat. Yup, it's probably a good thing I got out of bed.

I notice the precipitation. It's not liquid.