Hey, Punxsutawney Phil, we sure need some of your levity right now.

It’s so cold, Republicans switched their slogan to “Make America Warm Again.”

It’s so cold, Democrats have started lobbying for global warming.

Three weeks ago, I wrote a column about my love of snow. That hasn’t aged well.

Walking to my mailbox has become an Olympic luge event. My 4×4 truck — I nearly slid over the hillside yesterday — is useless on my icy private road.

I’ve got cabin fever so bad my AI apps have turned on me.

Alexa told me she needs some “alone time” — that she likes me only as a friend.

ChatGPT suggested I talk to the snowblower.

It turns out that what I love most about the snow is when it isn’t snowing.

Which is why I’m eager for the playful distraction Punxsutawney Phil provides.

Groundhog Day 2025 is upon us, and you know the program: Every February 2, Phil emerges from his burrow in Punxsutawney, Pa. If he sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter. If not, spring is just around the corner.

Groundhog Day – the holiday, not the 1993 Bill Murray movie — evolved from Candlemas Day, a Christian holy day commemorating the purification of the Virgin Mary.

In Germany, it grew into a tradition predicting weather, eventually involving a hedgehog. German immigrants brought it to Punxsutawney in 1887.

I have a special affection for Punxsutawney because it’s where my yellow Labrador, Thurber, was born four years ago.

As a dog lover and fan of all critters — except deer ticks, gosh, I hate deer ticks! — I think People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) is overplaying its hand again.

PETA annually argues that dragging Phil from his burrow under bright lights in front of a crowd disrupts his hibernation and stresses him out.

Their solution? Replace Phil with an AI-powered animatronic groundhog, a weather-reveal cake, whatever that is, or a simple coin flip.

I told Thurber about PETA’s thoughts — being from Punxy, he, too, has Phil’s special powers — and he said he’d happily dress up as a groundhog if it meant he could enjoy Phil’s perks and royal lifestyle.

“I may get overly excited around people and crowds, but I’d only work one day a year and live a life of luxury the rest of the time,” Thurber told me.

To be sure, the Inner Circle — the local dignitaries plan the events every year and are responsible for the feeding and care of Phil — provides him with climate-controlled accommodations at the Punxsutawney Memorial Library, plus a gourmet diet and top-notch veterinary care.

He’s even provided with three female companions to keep him company.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Inner Circle members are so committed to Phil’s happiness, they’re even willing to traffic in “woodchucks of the night.”

Critics such as PETA question Phil’s captivity, but the Inner Circle argues he enjoys a pampered, celebrity life that most woodchucks can only dream of.

PETA does some good work addressing serious animal-abuse issues. But I hope it focuses its full attention on those and leaves Phil alone, so he can live out his days like a prince and help us survive this unpleasant winter with his entertaining folklore.

Because it’s so cold outside, Thurber has stopped fetching his ball and only retrieves firewood.

See Tom Purcell’s syndicated column, humor books and funny videos featuring his dog, Thurber, at TomPurcell.com. Email him at Tom@TomPurcell.com.