Molting Season

Yep, summer’s almost here. I can tell by the way my coat is falling out all over. I look like a shaggy mess. Like I got caught in a tornado or something. And my person picks it off constantly. Then there’s the brushes. Sheesh! Next thing I know they’ll be bringing out that green kiddie pool and making me take a bath in it. Boy do I hate baths. Ugh!

The Shed

It’s great to see things greening up. This time of year there’s new stuff every week. Different flowers and shrubs growing, and chipmunks everywhere. We got back to Mr. Nishan’s tool shed on the walk, but whatever was living under there must have moved on to better digs. Or maybe no digs. Maybe they didn’t like my burrowing into their nest.

The lawn must be molting as much as I am, ’cause my person is out there constantly with the giant vacuum cleaner he calls “the mower”. That thing scares me, it’s too loud. Mom’s vacuums are loud enough, but that one is horrible. Maybe that’s why she makes him keep it outside, ’cause I never see him using it in the house. He always warns me so I can go hide in the fort under his bed.

 

Relaxing In The Sun

 

It’s been pretty quiet around the ranch, aside from the mower, and I must admit I am enjoying the mild weather and pleasant sunshine.  Also my person is out even more than he is in the winter, what with the constant work of a molting dog and molting lawn at the same time, plus cleaning up brush piles. And cooking many yummy things on the little black stove in the cabana! He tries not to bother the little bird in the moss-carpeted nest.

Moss Nest Guest
A Little Privacy?
Getting The Hairy Eyeball

 

In fact, maybe he’ll tire himself out so much he can stop nagging me with that brush. I think a lot of the hair on the chair comes from the cat. I think she gets up there when I’m out and just rolls around on my chair with glee, and laughs when she hears Mom caterwauling about the mess.

Wait…what’s that?

 

What Is That?

Oh no! The green pool!

 

Clear trails,

Sasha

 

 

Snud

Mudder

 

What do you get when snow melts? Snud! Mud made from snow. It’s really amazing how some snow turns into mud. Mostly snow is frozen water, and usually when it melts that’s what you get. Maybe it’s a special kind of snow, or maybe just a special time of year, but the snud season is upon us.

Along with snud season comes the opening of the yard around the back door, where I hang out. The fences come down and last year’s leaves get raked out of the way, and I can get my nose to the foundation. There’s always something trying to get into the cellar. I’ve been down there myself, and I can tell you it’s nice and cool and a little wet. Not snud, ’cause there’s never snow in the house. Must be plain old mud from when the water runs down behind the stone steps.

Pine squirrels are the the most pesky, and the most organized. I think it’s like a little platoon or something, because there’s never just one. If you sit at one corner waiting for the one to come out, the other one runs in through the gap behind the lattice. If you go over there to chase that one, the first one comes out from the corner. I decided to simply lay down in the middle, and when I did they both ran in at the same time! I’m not giving up, though.

It’s been crazy warm some of these days, though still snowing off and on this week, Sunday was like summer, and my person had to peel off a couple of layers on the walk.  I smelled something across Widowmaker Field. Something revealed after the last late snow melted. It required some effort to drag my person over the hill. And then, I was vindicated!

The story in pictures:

 

 

At night it’s still cold, but it won’t last long, I know. I can tell by the molt happening to my coat. The winter hairs are starting to fall out in little clumps. This usually raises mom’s ire, and she crabs that the vacuum cleaner is overwhelmed. I don’t like the vacuum cleaner anyway because it’s so loud (and I’m afraid of loud noises), so maybe they’ll get rid of it so mom won’t need to crab about it. I’d be pleased with that.

 

Clear trails!

Sasha