At about 4am I woke up and wondered if it would be a snow day. I tried to look out the bathroom window, but since we have the bottom half of the window frosted, I couldn’t really tell. I looked out my bedroom window, but there’s no street there, which means no street light and no cars to judge the depth of the snow. So I decided to check the window in Spike’s room.

Harpo noticed my wanderings and decided that I needed an enthusiastic doggy greeting. He started bouncing around in the hallway as I crept into the hot hedgehog room, trying not to wake the family.

Bong! I stubbed my toe on a metal trashcan, resulting in a sound that seemed to resound through the house. I paused to see if anyone would wake up, but I heard no sign that I had disturbed my loved ones. I crept over to the window and peeked out, noting that the snow looked deep and unplowed. It would be plowed by morning, but that would plow in the cars, requiring at least an hour’s effort to dig them out.

I turned my attention to Spike. As I crossed the room, I heard his wheel stop, a crunch as he climbed off the wheel and into the litter box, and then a rhythmic sound that might have been Spike returning to running on his wheel. But when I approached the cage and listened more closely, I realized that the sound was, in fact, Spike huffing at me. I reached my hand into the cage to let him know it was only me. He sniffed me, but remained in a tight ball, quills extended. That’s when I realized the dog was still doing his happy dance in the hallway, frustrated that he couldn’t reach me through the door.

I tried to calm my huffing hoglet, but to no avail. He remained a snuffly pincushion of fear. I sighed and returned to my bed, my softer pets, my husband, and a nice, long sleep.

After all, it is a snow day.