What a glorious mid-winter day on the Texas Tundra.

Indeed, days like this occasionally make me forget we’re still in the grip of winter. After all, didn’t The Groundhog tell us a few days ago we were in for six more weeks of it? Not around here, Phil.

So, with that my wife and I spent the morning trimming perennials, raking leaves that fell several months ago, clearing out the back yard as we prepare for spring.

We also listened to a canine cacophony from next door and across the alley that separates us from our neighbors to the south.

What does this have to do with Toby the Dog, our little bundle of excitement?

He didn’t make a sound while the three neighbor dogs yipped and yapped incessantly at my wife and me — and at Toby as he traipsed along the fence; I’m thinking he was baiting the neighbor pooches. Nor did he make a sound while we all listened to the much bigger dogs across the alley. For the record, we have another dog living on the other side of us, but she’s a very well-behaved mid-sized pooch.

No, the only sound Toby made this morning was to yip just a little bit at a neighbor kitty that’s a frequent visitor to our yard; once in a while she ventures into our home, apparently when Toby and Mittens (our very territorial cat) are looking the other way.

I know some of you out there own small dogs. Ours is a little one. However, take it from me: When he decides to bark — which isn’t very often — it usually is for a reason, such as when the UPS guy or the Fed Ex guy delivers something at the front door. And when Toby does let loose, he sounds a lot larger — and meaner — than he actually is.

Today? Virtually nothing came from him while the chorus was erupting all around us.

Good job, Toby.