White Dog pressed against me. "Well February is certainly going out like a lion," she said looking out on the grey angry morning. The winds were causing the chimes to sing harshly and the homemade plastic storm windows on the sun porch snapped and strained.
Herds of dust ghosts raced down the street. The trees groaned and swayed and scraped the roof. It filled the White Dog Army with disquiet and unease. No one even wanted to go through the dog door which flapped in the gusts. It went on for the entire day.
Frequently the winds would pick up, gusting, Steve told us later, up to 65mph. The windows rattled at the onslaught.
We stayed huddled together working in the office until the gales interrupted computer service.
"It is nature's way of telling us it is time for treats," Nilla, ever the optimist, concluded as we headed into the living room.
Munching on treats the WDA tried not to jump at every spooky sound. To distract them I told the pack about frontier days on the plains of Kansas where homesteaders were often trapped for days in dreary sod houses as the winds roared and dust made breathing outdoors nearly impossible. They tried to imagine what our living room would be like if we had to bring in chickens and our cow to keep them from choking in the dust storms. Sachi was rather enjoying the thought when WD rolled her nose and mentioned that neither were house-breakable. "Imagine the mess and stink," she sneered.
Slowly chewing a bonus strip of jerky, the WDA considered. I am pretty sure most did not find the prospects as unappealing as she did.