Saturday With Shutter
Snowmageddon My Furry Ice!
The wind and cold was going to howl in from the south-west. The temperatures were going to plummet to sub zero levels bringing with it an accumulation of white stuff not seen in the Mid-West since the last ice age. Panic spread far and wide in our tiny community!
Ramen noodles, bread, milk, all manner of common staples and food stuffs flew off the shelves at the local stores as if it were all being sucked into some giant unseen vortex. I observed one human pushing a cart with three kerosene heaters in it and another in tow containing their companion fuel receptacles, blankets, and so many canned goods they threatened to spill over the sides like the foam of a poorly drawn draft beer.
As I pondered the forth coming apocalyptic meteorological event affectionately known as “Snowmageddon 2019”, I could not help but wonder what steps my own human had taken to insure our survival? Was there sufficient water and food to sustain the Pack? Could he even build a fire by rubbing two sticks together or hew a spear head from a stone of flint?
As starvation loomed would we be forced to consume him like the Donner Party stuck in the Sierra Nevada mountains in the Winter of 1846-47? I hope not. While I confess I have developed a certain affection for our human servant, truth is that his fat to meat ratio clearly leans more toward the former, than the latter.
So as Saturday January 19, 2019 dawned and we went outside so I could evacuate my excretory system I braced for the blizzard just beyond the door. I leaped down the back steps clearing all four in a single bound with my human in tow only to discover it was… raining? “Perhaps”, I thought, “this is only a prelude of what’s to come.” I pondered that given current predictions these harmless albeit irritating rain drops would soon be transformed into missile like shards of ice sure to impale us to death should we dare to venture outside the safety of our home.
When Nature called again in the afternoon I was furious with my human. He had not yet shuttered the windows to keep unwanted predators out. He had not dug the fire pit in the center of the living room floor nor carried in one stick of wood to fuel it. We were all going to perish and it was his fault. I braced myself by the door with one of two courses of action planned. If the a fore mentioned ice was coming down only in moderation I would risk it by seeking the closest cover as quickly as possible while I took care of business.
If it was coming down like the meteorite that struck the Yucatan Peninsula 65 million years ago and wiped out the dinosaurs, well, in that event I was pooping in the house. My human grabbed his umbrella, (yeah, like that was going to stop our impending doom) flung the back door open and as I stepped across the threshold it was… hmm, still raining.
It rained in the morning. It rained in the afternoon. It was still raining when we went out that evening! And while yes, last night it did get much colder turning the accumulated precipitation to ice, it was hardly the apocalyptic event predicted. Dog and mankind was not thrust backward into the stone age. The saber toothed tiger and woolly mammoth did not make their long awaited return to once again dominate the animal kingdom (not that those pea brained giants could ever dethrone us dogs as the rightful rulers of this world anyway). It was, in the end, just another cold, wet, wintery January day in the great state of Ohio.
I am in actuality a bit disappointed in myself. I had figured out some time ago that often there really isn’t very much that is truly “News Worthy” in what passes off as “News” these days. It was one of you humans Mark Twain who said about 150 years ago, “If you don’t read the news you are uninformed. If you read the news you’re ill-informed.” It was probably his dog that said it and he just stole but you get my point.
While I agree it is always a good idea to make at least reasonable preparations in life like carrying a spare tire in your car, or having a couple of preplanned meals in the event of inclement weather. But I find myself laughing now at the thought of you humans making a mad dash to the local circus you call Wal-mart, and clearing the shelves of every survival necessity you can lay your hands on whenever some over dramatic meteorologist predicts even the slightest accumulation.
While this is just an observation on my part, perhaps, just perhaps, when next we are advised of an impending three day wintery mix you might consider this. It’s pretty unlikely you are going to need fifteen loaves of bread, nine gallons of milk, and every egg ever laid in a three state radius just to survive. Because when the storm has passed and the sun returns in the end, we are all in this together.