Farmer in Winter
It has rained off and on for the past couple of days, and beginning yesterday evening the rain has been constant. My front yard is a soaked sponge with large puddles of cold water scattered profusely among wide expanses of fallen leaves, and the lower yard down by where the roads intersect is a large lake with some of the trees standing in nearly two feet of brown, murky water.
I took poor Rosie out to do her business this morning just as the sun would have liked to have come up. Rosie hates the rain, so I had to walk way out onto the soggy yard before putting her down. Moments later after she swore she was done, I picked her up and walked back to the house. It was then that I noticed we had a visitor.
On the front porch, huddled behind my wooden glider, was a large brown dog trying to stay warm. Rosie saw her and began yapping, not exactly a welcoming yap. I put Rosie back in the house and then proceeded to introduce myself to the visitor.
It turns out that the sweet (and very pregnant) mongrel had arrived last night and pawed at the garage door where my son was inside working by the fire - so she and Nick had already met. Nick let her get warm and then put her back outside, naively hoping that she would go home. Today he said that he will put up a posting in a local on-line advertiser and see if anyone claims her.
I, being a bit more worldly than my son, know that someone dumped this poor dog on a cold, wet, miserable night, and the chances of that soulless bastard rushing to claim her are nil. So we have a vet bill for spaying in our future, and another for shots for the puppies - and then a complicated process of finding homes for a bunch of wriggly little mutts who done have nothing to deserve the dog's life that is about to be thrust upon them.
And still it rains.
And still we persevere.