Winter is coming early to our Washington island, and everybody’s grumbling. As clouds gather and rains dampen the woods, the world seems to quiet, birds fly south, and conversations on the ferry become serious and muffled.
Especially affected by the weather change are my beloved dogs: Logan, a German shepherd, and Phoebe, a beagle. On our newly cold mornings, the dogs lounge around on their beds later and with more conviction than they do in the summer, and they seem to want to eat more and store up fat for winter. They also resist going out into the rain. When I call them to the door, you’d think I was trying to coax them to their execution. I become the vicious ogre whom they wish they could ignore.
