Kickass, the doorstop dog, says there is something about waiting for a winter storm to hit that focuses survival genes. The keeper comments that if he were a hibernator, anticipating the storm would move him to dig the burrow a little deeper or settle lower into the den covers. If he were a member of the migratory crowd, the keeper would head farther south. Being denied these very logical winter survival modes, however, the keeper and all like him can only peer out the window at a darkening sky, and check the supplies for making a big kettle of soup. That has to be enough, along with appropriate stores of grog, of course. Fortunately, however severe the storm turns out to be, it will be as noting compared to the storms of the keeper’s childhood: there were days when the sun never even came up, and snow blew in through a keyhole to make a four-foot drift in the kitchen, and……..