Days of Wind (A Series of Unfortunate Events)
Day 3 (The Battle at The Farm)
By Cathy Collar
After vowing not to go out into the wicked wind because of being abused by its brutal blows two days in a row, I was forced to break my cherished vow. My husband was stuck at work and I was left with the job of going to feed our dogs on the farm. Yeah! Although the wind had lessened a bit it was still screaming and howling at anyone who dared to open their door. Determined to get this job done quickly and return to my safe haven, I bundled up in thermals, jeans and all other things farmy (yes even boots) and headed out.
Following a fierce battle with the truck door (apparently the truck didn’t want to go anywhere either) I was finally on my way. The ten miles to the farm felt more like fifty with the added bonus of dodging enormous tumble weeds, flying trash bags and low flying birds struggling to keep aloft. I would have felt sorry for those birds but I couldn’t help but think why they were even trying to fly in this mess?
Arriving at the farm, I let out a mild curse as I spied our German Shorthair, Buddy running around like a dog gone mad, bouncing, dashing and barking at everything that moved (and believe me a lot of things were moving). One look at the kennel told me who the accomplice was in his escape. Mr. Wind had dropped a large branch right on top of the hotwire in Buddy’s pen rendering it harmless. Great I thought. Now I had to catch this crazy dog and put him on the tie out until his daddy, my husband, could fix the hotwire and I had to do this while fighting my archenemy, the wicked Mr. Wind.
The first plan that formed in my mind was very simple and should have worked. I would get bouncing Buddy to jump into the back of the truck. It made sense to me. After all he was a bird dog and loved to go hunting so he would think he was going on a hunting trip. I lowered the tailgate and hollered.
“Here Buddy! Let’s go find some quail!”
The harsh wind ripped the words right out of my mouth and drove them fiercely in the opposite direction. Buddy defiantly did not hear my tantalizing invitation and to add to my aggravation he acted like he didn’t even know I was on the planet.
Fine! I said to myself. It was time for plan B. While putting the tailgate back up, Mr. Wind graciously decided to help me by flinging it back into its original position, taking my arm none too gently along with it. Needless to say I did not appreciate the assistance. Gritting my teeth, I plowed my way through the dirt and flying branches to the barn. Safely inside I began the search for my secret weapon.
“Ah Ha,” I said as I grabbed the precious can of dog food. The dogs usually got dry dog food, but we always kept some canned on hand in case we had to hide some nasty medicine in it for them to take. They ALL loved the canned dog food. It was like chocolate to them. I knew Buddy’s keen sense of smell would pick up the enticing aroma and lead him to his destiny, the tie out.
Back outside I fought the wind and debris and again gain access to my truck. Becoming a contortionist somehow I got the truck door open while gripping the open can of dog food with my fingertips and using my elbow I honked the horn. Buddy finally acknowledged my presence and came flying to the truck. One whiff of the dog food and HE WAS MINE! I coaxed him to the tie out and left him happily lapping up his ill-gotten treat while I finished my task. Vow renewed, I bolted into my truck and speed back to the safe confines of my house shouting as I drove. “Victory is Mine!”
