Snow

When I get my paws on the weatherman, he is going to be so sorry for all of the trouble he has caused. We now have several inches of snow on the ground, and needless to say, I have frantic polar bears, demanding blankets, quilts, heaters and mittens to insure their warmth. And the weatherman is lurking, up in his little studio a block away, watching all of this with great glee. I'm sure I saw flashes of light from his binoculars a bit ago. Really, wasn't it bad enough when he observed the rabbits this summer to forecast rain? He ought to be fired! Not to mention tarred, feathered, and ran out of town on a rail. If the polar bears see another flake of snow, I shudder to imagine what will happen. This is all the weatherman's fault!