Gracie & the Blizzard of 2013

Friday night I went to sleep, confident in the certainty that certain things--like the landscape--generally stay the same.  I don't know why this makes me feel good, but I'm a dog.  A creature of habit.

Saturday morning, THIS is what I found:

Nothing was the same.  I may as well have awakened on a remote asteroid!

 

When I decided that I had to conduct my morning ritual, I couldn't even get through the door.  What is a diminutive, four-footed creature such as myself to do?

 

Groceries?  Dog food?  Forget it!  Nobody was going ANYWHERE!
 

I found myself in a sort of (Kerry) blue funk.  This was getting old very quickly!

 

Buster--never one to leave his feelings unknown--began to howl and bay at the moon.  Well, there wasn't a moon.  But if there had been, he would have bayed at it.  

 I thought I would walk over to the gate and look around.  Gate?

 Bailey put on her fashionable red sweater and strutted down the ramp, only to hit a wall.  Not elegant.

Winter is not to my liking.  My agent shall hear about this.

Your friend,


Gracie