As much as I enjoy all the beautiful flowers popping up all over, the pollen in the air is getting out of hand. We haven't had a decent spot of rain for at least two weeks so things are looking dry and crusted over. Kind of like my eyes in the morning.
At night, I find myself laying in bed listening for various and sundry coughing, snoring, wheezing, and the occasional refrain from Typhon. It really is amazing how noisy a night in the sticks can be.
For example, the other night I laid in bed and I thought I heard Typhon starting a midnight medley. I threw off the covers, high tailed it downstairs and got ready to sling the windows open and cut him off mid-chant. Only there was nothing. Not a note. So, I went back to bed, snuggled into my pillow and tried to fall back asleep.
About an hour or so later, I thought I heard the faint ringing of Typhon's baritone and once again, I jumped out of bed and scurried downstairs. By the time I reached the kitchen window, the prison was dead silent. I waited a few minutes just to be sure and then mumbled grumpy thoughts to myself as I headed back to bed.
I lay there wondering about nuclear physics and complicated algebra, as you do, until my ears picked up that faint howling sound once again. This time, I decided I didn't give a damn and the whole village could just enjoy a little bit of Typhon's happy voice at 3:38 am.
Funny thing was, it didn't get any louder. It stayed weak and faint, like the sound of a ghost who's given up the ghost. I sat up straight and strained my ears to try figure out just what the heck that dog was doing when I finally figured out that the sound wasn't coming from Typhon at all.
It was coming from Hubster.
Who knew that when he suffers from seasonal allergies, Hubster wheezes like a Malamute.