Hail? No! We won't go!


By Scot Northern, Angelic Whippets

We got hit with 8 inches of snow yesterday in the period of about 5 hours . . . and as if that wasn’t enough, this morning at 5:00 AM I woke up to THUNDER!?!, only to look outside and see that it was sleeting/hailing huge chunks of ice. I think several had their own atmosphere and gravitational pull.

At this time in the morning, many thoughts race through your head:
  1. Sleep . . . must get back to sleep . . . turn off brain . . . stop thinking . . . 
  2. Thank God, Kate didn’t try driving home in this last night from Missouri.
  3. The Whippets are gonna HATE going outside in this!
  4. Wish I hadn't traded in my nice All Wheel Drive SUV for a new car.
  5. Crap! My new car is in the driveway getting HAMMERED!
Now, you'll ask yourself . . . why is this car not in the garage? . . . safe and sound . . . blissfully dreaming new car dreams . . . hot wax treatments, polishings, Little Red Corvettes (baby, you're much to fast) . . . sorry, Prince song broke into my head . . . anyway . . . 

You see, my garage has turned into “Kate's Tack Room” (ah, the joys of being married to a professional handler): crates, crate dollies, coolers, tack boxes, bags of dog food, plastic bins with dog beds in them, etc. It is AMAZING (when motivated) how fast one can push all of this against the walls to get JUST enough space to pull said car into the garage (i.e. “mother lifts car to save trapped child” or Bruce Banner and the Hulk). The car didn’t make it all the way in, but just enough to get out of the walnut-sized-thunder-hail-storm. Thunder?!? Honestly, it’s February!!!

Since it was now 5:30 AM, CC was still VERY asleep under the covers, and VERY peeved that I woke Her Highness before noon . . . and without her Latte, nonetheless.
Then of course, there was the struggle of getting CC and Brooke to go outside to potty. It's hard enough getting CC out of bed in the morning: “You go outside, Dad. I’ll meet ya there. On your way back, be a dear and pick me up an Iced Chai Latte with Skim milk.”

Since it was now 5:30 AM, CC was still VERY asleep under the covers, and VERY peeved that I woke Her Highness before noon . . . and without her Latte, nonetheless.

Brooke, on the other hand, sprang out of her crate and onto the porch with her normal Golden Retriever-like joy — “Ah, a new day! Hello, Mr. Bluebird! Good Day to you, Mr. Chipmunk! Top-O-The-Mornin To Ya! Come on Momma, let's go! Momma? Momma?” — only to turn around and see me pushing CC out the door, or at least trying to.

Amazingly, CC had managed to increase her weight and mass from 34 pounds to what felt like 3,400 pounds, and had also grown opposable thumbs which she was using to latch herself onto the doorframe while chanting: “Hail? No! I won't go!!! Hail? No! I won't go!!!”

Brooke, now on the porch, realizes that she is CLEARLY being pelted to death and decides she has had enough, and wants back in . . . NOW! Her only problem is the “CC Log Jam” in the doorway. Brooke wants in, CC wants in, Dad wants them both OUT!

What happens when the unstoppable force (Brooke) meets the immovable object (CC)?

Amazingly, CC had managed to increase her weight and mass from 34 pounds to what felt like 3,400 pounds, and had also grown opposable thumbs which she was using to latch herself onto the doorframe . . . 
Well, it involves a LOT of upset Whippet roo-ing, jackets getting tangled, wet Whippet feet sliding everywhere, and Dad watching the cat bolt out the door in his never-ending quest for "Freedom!" (said in my best Braveheart imitation). Yeah, it took the cat about 2 seconds to realize that freedom comes with a price and this morning, that price is hail as big as his paws smacking him on the head (yeah, I giggled a bit... ok, a LOT). He just stood on the porch, waiting for me to save him. Of course, I had no shoes on, and bare feet plus icy porch = bruised butt.

Anyway . . . the Whippets finally went outside . . . but I had to go with them* . . . (*important to note, I did NOT actually potty outside) . . . 

And the hail finally stopped . . . but then I found out that snow blowers don’t like hail . . . 

And even with shoes on, icy driveway STILL = bruised butt, and concrete is MUCH harder than wood.

Please, remind me: why do I live in Iowa? Kevin Costner, when asked in the movie ‘Field of Dreams,’ "Is this heaven?" replied, "No, it's Iowa." I guess that makes sense . . . 'cause the alternative is MUCH hotter, with a TON less snow!

The weather channel says 6-10 MORE inches of snow tomorrow night. Mental note: toilet-train the Whippets . . . and get a pillow to strap to butt.



"Hail? No! We won't go!" Copyright © 2008 Scot Northern.
All Rights Reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Unless otherwise noted, remainder of ReJoyce web site Copyright © 2000-2012 Guy and Melody Joyce. All Rights Reserved.