Rigby vs. Snow

The last time I posted, I told the story of how I had fully embraced the huge amount of snow in my backyard.  I related how I attacked a rose bush that had the nerve of peeking out from under the snow, how I did my business wherever I saw fit, and how I decapitate and disemboweled Sister's snowman.  In other words, if this were a competition, the score would be Rigby 3, Snow 0.

Well, apparently the snow was annoyed at my ability to take advantage of it and decided to spend the next week fighting back.  Here's what happened:

Mourning Doves:
A day or so after the storm, when the snow was still very deep, I found myself in the unfortunate position of being beached in the middle of the backyard.  At first, I wasn't too concerned.  I knew that if I simply took a minute or two I'd easily be able to break through the snowdrift and be on my way.  In the meantime, all I had to do was strike a pose and pretend that I wasn't stuck so as to fool Ma who was also outside with me.  I didn't, however, take into account the flock of mourning doves that were hanging out in the tree above me.  Well, apparently my presence annoyed the doves and they started flapping their wings and jumping from branch to branch in protest.  I found this sudden movement quite menacing because a) I have chased a good number of doves off of my property in the past and I was concerned that they might be ganging up on me to seek revenge and b) I was stuck in a snowdrift.  Luckily, the birds did not appear to have any interest in attacking me and merely flew off to another tree.  However, my cover was blown; Ma had seen the pure terror in my eyes.  No amount of posing was going to cover that up.

Squirrel:
A day or so after the dove incident, I found myself hanging out in the backyard with Pa.  Because of my earlier experience, I was much more careful about making sure that I didn't find myself in yet another uncomfortable position.  In other words, I steered clear of the middle of the yard where the snow was the deepest.  So anyway, there I was sniffing around when all of a sudden I saw it:  a squirrel brazenly sitting on the fence in the back corner of the yard.  With a heavy heart and a sense of failing in my duty as "Head of Security," I came to the conclusion that there was no way for me to chase after the squirrel.  If I did, I'd only find myself stuck in another snowdrift (and I'd never be able to deal with a squirrel seeing me in such an embarrassing position).  So I did the only other thing I could: I inched my way as close to the dangerous snowdrift as possible then started barking hysterically.  The squirrel didn't flee as quickly as he would have had I chased him down, but he did get the message and meandered off. 

Avalanche:
A day later I was peacefully snoozing in the kitchen (if you're going to sleep on the floor, you might as well do so in the room where the refrigerator lives) when all of a sudden, I was awoken by a loud thud.  Alarmed, I jumped up barking, convinced that the squirrels and doves had teamed up and were using a battering ram to knock in my door.  Sister, startled not by the thud (she didn't hear it) but from my hysterical barking, quickly rushed into the kitchen and looked out the side door.  She then turned back to me and laughed.  The snow that had built up on the side awning had melted just enough to allow for the whole pile to slide off and land on the pavement.

So the official score by the end of the week was Rigby 3, Snow 3.  Obviously, I needed to break the tie.  So what did I do?  I mounted a second attacked on the melted remains of Sister's snowman.

Ah...payback!