Dog Days of Summer

102° is too hot -- for humans and dogs.

So we all piled into the house today. I shifted the cats from their usual three rooms to two, closed them off, and invited Wilson and Lady inside for the afternoon.

They were grateful and very good, flopping down onto the floor in front of the fan I had turned on to assist the straining AC. They are outdoor dogs and generally happy to be so (at least, that's what they tell me). But when the temperatures get extreme, they get to come inside. The last time was this past winter when the mercury plunged to single digits for a couple of nights. I invited them in and they gave me no argument.

Of course, on these rare occasions, the cats become indignant, swishing their tales and hissing at each other for no reason. Suddenly, the only place they want to be is the very room in which they're not allowed. They smell the dogs through the crack under the door. Rather than becoming intimidated by the scent, their hackles are raised and their yowls are expressive.

"Let me at 'em.!" This from a furry feline who weighs less than a tenth of the weight of the lighter dog. Plus, she has no front claws!

Nevertheless, she is fearless and mad . . . and insistent. She can't wait to jump on the back of the larger dog, dig her back claws into the dog's hide and ride her out of town triumphantly and in a blaze of glory.

She's describing that scene quite vociferously between paces in front of the door. She has become obscene with the names she calls the intruders. I'm afraid for the door, which, after all, is merely wood and was never meant to be a barricade. I cross to it and turn the knob, planning to slip out to check on the defenseless dogs, who by now have their noses trained on the space under the door.

Cautiously, I open the door a crack, barely a crack. Already, the dogs are excited at the prospect of bounding into a new room with new toys and places to sniff.

I turn around to shush the cat, but she has vanished without a sound. There isn't even a grin to prove she was there. In place of her courage, there's a small clump of fur.