They're Back

It's hard to describe the feeling of a heart that sinks and races at the same time, but that's what happened yesterday when I saw my neighbor's dogs coming up the drive when it was light enough to see.  Thankfully, all my animals were still tucked in safely.  Hoping to pass on some of the kindness I had received the day before, I called my neighbor instead of Animal Control.  I found her explanation of "someone must have left the kitchen door open last night" strangely unsatisfying, given that there were six inches of snow on the ground.  Going out later, tracks showed that the dogs had been all around on the deck, had tag-teamed and killed a rabbit by the drive, and had dug four or five pits while going after ground squirrels, one right by the goat pen.  Just what I need, more ankle-busters.  Having had such a wonderful outing, those dogs are going to be anxious for a repeat performance.  "We're doing all we can," obviously isn't working.  I just hate the need to be hypervigilant in my peaceable kingdom.

Continuing yesterday's black-and-white theme, Cindy posed in the snow, giving her opinion of the situation by sticking out her tongue.  My sentiments exactly.  The temperature soared into the forties and by afternoon most of the snow had melted away.  I can hear rain hitting the windows this morning, without the howling winds of the previous storms.  Parts of the barn are simply awash and there's nothing I can do about it.  Weather Guy has promised sunshine by early next week, but he may be trying to forestall a riot with those golden words.