White Dog refused to leave the blowing air in front of our bedroom window fan this morning...despite the fact that breakfast sausage was on the menu. I put my feet down from the bed and nearly stepped on Nuka who was curled up asleep. Puff and her brother YoYoMa stretched out next to each other on the floor where they could catch the little bit of air movement from the dog door AND the edge sweep of the fan's range. Quinn was sprawled asleep under the ceiling fan in the office, his hair rustling softly from the blowing air. It was only 7am and already it was hot!
We are admittedly, a little behind in getting ready for the heat at White Dog Ranch. The weather has been up and down and has lulled us into a false comfort at moving the task further down our pressing "to do" list. Our swamp coolers have not been hooked up or new pads installed (evaporative coolers, a life staple here in the desert). The portable fans are still out in the storage shed (except for the window fans that I made Steve go out with a flashlight to retrieve the other night when I could no longer take the White Dog drama of panting and sighing and lying sprawled like limp dish rags).
So the stalwart Army suffers in the heat as it unfevers paws and tongues with ice cubes...and the Universal balm, duck jerky. Steve has promised that he will be on the roof at sunrise Saturday morning to get the cooling system functioning and I am sure he will have plenty of supervisors to make sure the promise is kept in a timely and chilling fashion.
Until then, as I told my fluffy White Ones, a little sweat is good for the soul.