White Dog and I cancelled our afternoon plans to sit on the sunny deck and sort through boxes of miscellaneous stuff Steve recently found in the storage shed. For one, it wasn't sunny; sometime around noon the sun had been swallowed up by a solid cloud cover which made the light diffused and wishy washy. For two, the wind was building and by early afternoon we could see dust blowing down the street in a steady sheet. By the time Steve got home at six, the wind roared causing trees to quake and streetlamps to bob. Poor Oso had to struggle to hold himself into position as he tried to enter the dog door; the wind kept pushing him past the door's frame before he could hop inside.
The new plan involved the White Dog Army hunkering down inside, close together, around Steve and I. YoYoMa hates the wind noises and none of the pups was too keen on spending any time in the blowing sand and skittering bits of urban landscape that ruled outside our doors.
It was a good night to stay inside and watch Glee episodes together with the blinds shuttered tight to block the howling wind. We shared treats and tried to ignore the crazy cacophony of neighborhood wind chimes. At bedtime, the WDA did their best impersonation of racehorses during their nightly walks; the entire Army was walked in record time.
Every one found places around the bedroom floor; WD on the bed. YoYoMa took his usual spot next to Steve on the floor but pulled the blanket overhang over himself to create a makeshift sleeping cocoon. There was nervous shiftings as we turned out the light; the sound of my voice telling Native American stories of the magic of the wind seemed to calm until one-by-one the Army gave itself over to sleep and the wind yelled to deaf ears.