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WATER WOES by Dorothy-Jean (Dody) Christian Chapman Washing dishes became difficult with a dwindling stream of water.

Now what could be causing this so early in the morning? Past issues have involved the breaker cutting off in the middle of the night because the faucet at the well house had been left in the "on" position; other times have been as a result of a power surge during an electrical storm. Well, we had experienced a thunder bumper yesterday afternoon, but we did not lose power, and this was sixteen hours later. So, I checked the breaker box: All the switches were "on." I toggled the well pump switch, but it did not affect the stream of water at the sink. Perhaps turning off the water would reserve what little precious liquid languished in the house pipes. The next step in solving the water loss would be checking the well pump. For that job, the best person would be Ray. And he lay snoozing happily in the dawn light awaiting my call to break the fast. Call I did. But rather than use my characteristically piercing whistle through my front incisors, I made a bedroom call placing my wet hand on the leathery sole of Ray's right foot. Not much surprise in that because our working dogs who were alerted to the irregularity in the schedule, bounded to Ray first and dotted his entire right flank with their wet noses. All this activity brought about the desired result. Ray listened to the plight, slipped on his work shoes and plodded outside to the well house in his shorts. Ray checked the pump inside the well house; it was functioning. However, he did notice that the faucet outside the well house was running water on the ground. Turning the faucet off solved the water problem in the house. Having spent a pleasant breakfast together, Ray and I planned our day. As we conversed, I began washing the few dishes we had used. Again, I noticed significantly low water pressure. Ray and I checked the breaker box. Nothing was amiss. So, on with the work shoes again, and Ray headed out to the well house. This time, he noticed one of our pigs near the well drinking water which was flowing, again, from the faucet outside the well house. No ------- not possible, Ray was thinking. So Ray turned off the faucet, chased the errant pig away, drew up a chunk of wood from the woodpile to sit upon, and he waited. Twenty minutes later, the same pig ambled to the well house and headed for the water faucet. Through a series of pawings and gnawing the faucet's handle, that precocious porker managed to turn on the water and reward himself with cool refreshment.

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