Our animals teach me about radical acceptance; it is something they practice every day of their lives. They don’t know what heat is, but they know what it feels like.

Our donkeys and sheep have had easy and comfortable lives.

The donkeys are guard animals; they keep the coyotes away. Our border collie loves sheep too much to herd them. Maria knows each animal by name and comforts, communicates with them, and loves them all. They love her back.

Our dog each lives as good a life as a dog can live. We protect them and make them comfortable.

But climate change is something different; we can’t protect the animals from extreme heat, which is, I think, harder on them than extreme cold. Bud is sensitive to heat and cold, but Zinnia and Fate are cold weather dogs; they never seem to get cold.

The heat affects them both, Zinnia is panting much of the time, and Fate, an insanely active dog, is sluggish in the afternoon.

We have three extensive pastures with lots of grass and the best fresh hay available in the winter.

Except in the heart of winter, there is always green and fresh grass for our ruminants. But they won’t go out to eat in the daytime, only at night.

In the daytime, they seem drugged. I have rarely seen them like this.

They have heated water in the cold, shade, and shelter in all seasons.

No predator has ever come near them.

This summer, they are experiencing, as we are, and much of the country is, the worst heat wave in memory.

It was 106 on Saturday and almost as hot on Sunday.

The temperature has cooled a bit, but it is still warmer than anything I’ve experienced this time of year, at least not for such a prolonged period. Almost every day brings lightning and thunder, something else the animals don’t like.

I don’t like it either; the doctors warn me to stay indoors in extreme heat; my body can’t cool down in that kind of sun.

The animals seem restless to me as if they know something is off.

Still, they accept and adapt without complaint, whining, or lament. There are three places our animals go to avoid the hot sun. One is the pole barn; the other is next to the pole barn on the north under the shade of a maple tree, and the third is the fence in our back yard beneath the apple.

We are lucky up here. It’s hot, but it manages to rain. The grass is green. There are no fires in the hills. This week, the brown grass is roaring back to life, the nasty storms have dumped a lot of water, and we needed it.  And soon, it will be Autumn, a time of beauty and relief. I appreciate the animals; unlike people, they always accept what comes at them.

Liam, Merricat, Robin, and the donkeys come out under the apple tree to stay out of the sun, and just sleep. Almost any time of the day, I see them out there, lying still, preserving energy. I love all the seasons here, but I never thought I would be relieved to be in cold winter. I think the animals will be.