©2016 Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved
Darkness settled on the bean fields, cloaking the neighborhood with blurred visions of yard lights and streaking vehicles. This day was done. Morning came late, with thick soupy haze. Light snuck through the clouds just enough to chase away the fog and expose the storm lingering on the horizon. We would soon hear the thunder and watch as the wind bashed the trees and shrubs. It wasn’t to be a good day at all.
Josey, our little Manchester terrier, woke with chattering teeth and trembling limbs. She was terrified of storms and her first action when going outside for her morning chores was to sniff the air for any sign of bad weather. The signs came early today, even before her tiny feet had a chance to pitter-patter on the hallway floor.
“Storm! Storm!” her radar blared incessantly, to no avail. We coaxed and prodded and shoved her shivering body out through the dining room to the patio door. “Hurry up and go pee, Jo; quit dilly-dallying!” High-stepping around the grass just inches off the patio, she finally shook her aged bones and sank a quick squirt onto the lawn. With an “All right, already! “snooty glare, she hurried back through the door, pausing only to shake a leg or two. You would think the grass had soiled her feet, not the other way around.
My husband gave Jo her morning treat and held out her “thunder shirt” to protect her from the upcoming storm. Though it seemed to be an arduous chore for her, she willingly allowed the effort, firmly believing in its miraculous power. The shivering and trembling soon died down to a minimal tail jerk and soon she was back in bed, snoozled up in her blankie.
(A typical stormy day in the life of an adopted dog now living in the lap of luxury. Her “partner in crime” is Annie. We’ll hear from her in future posts.)