What the Nor'easter Brought

I have mixed feeling about storms like the nor'easter we had last weekend.  On the one paw, the strong winds often bring down branches and pieces of bark from high up trees which, as my loyal readers know, is key to my hobby of making small branches into smaller branches and gnawing on bark like it's chewing gum.  Then of course, there is the fact that my model-like poses are way more effective when I'm facing into the wind, my glamorous fur rippling behind me.  On the other paw, however, high winds tend to make already scary things (like garbage cans) scarier by making them move and there are few things I hate more than the wind blowing on my tail feathers when I'm trying to do my business.

Like past storms, this recent one brought both good and bad things to my day.  But the key to this entire story, which I will relate now, however, is that I came out on top.  Here's what happened.

The bulk of the storm occurred on Friday.  By Saturday morning, when my story takes place, the driving snow, sleet, and rain had dried up leaving only cloudy skies and occasional gusty winds.  Bright eyed and bushy tailed from a good night sleep, I was out first thing in the morning wandering through the backyard scoping out the damage which consisted of only a meager number of felled twigs and branches.  I started out near the garage on the right side of the yard.  Then I moved to the middle of the yard where I sniffed suspiciously at a roof shingle which had blown in from who knows where.  I jumped slightly when the fabric cover on the next-door neighbor's grill billowed in the wind, then, after checking to see if anyone noticed my start, sauntered over to the forsythia bush located in the far left corner of the yard. 

I was absentmindedly sniffing behind the forsythia bush when I came across something strange.  It was roundish and bright yellow and when I picked it up in my mouth I discovered that it was squishy, tasted of plastic, and had a slightly rigid outer shell.  Hoping to get a better handle on the entire situation, I dragged this strange object out from behind the bushes and spit it out in the middle of the yard.

A Visiting Beach Ball

The storm had brought me a slightly deflated beach ball!  

Happy with my discovery, I picked up the ball and guffawed my way across the yard and onto the driveway.  I needed to show Pa what I had found. Needless to say, he was quite impressed with my discovery.

I stood there in the middle of the driveway for a couple of moments holding my new found toy, but then I got tired and put it down.  It was then that things got a little scary.  Out of nowhere, a sudden gust of wind took hold of my beach ball and blew it toward me.

I backed away quickly.

Pa laughed and suggested we go inside to eat our breakfast.  I thought it was a good idea, so I quickly sidestepped the beach ball--careful never to take my eyes off it just in case it decided to attack again--and ran inside.

A couple of hours later, Sister took me outside again.  At first, I forgot all about the beach ball and walked right by it (it was now hiding to the right of the side step).  It wasn't until after I had checked the perimeter of the backyard for squirrels and made up my mind to go to the front gate and bark at nothing at all that I happened to come across the ball in passing.  Completely forgetting about my noisy plans, I scurried over to the ball, picked it up, and ran into the backyard.

Burying my Head

Attack!

For the next forty-five seconds I had a grand time.  I ran.  I jumped.  I guffawed.  I shook the yellow beach ball way up high over my head and from left to right allowing it to thump against my sides.  I even buried my face in it and attempted to roll on it (which didn't work).  But the fun was short lived.  While running with the ball in my mouth, I suddenly heard the whooshing of escaping air.  My tooth had punctured the thin yellow plastic shell.

So, with the beach ball punctured, there was only one thing left for me to do.  I had to kill it.  I stopped in my tracks and, with my foot firmly placed on the deflated ball, began picking at it with my razor-sharp teeth.  Within seconds, the ball was no more.

A Short-Lived Friendship