Awful Weather

It is springtime in the mid-south and we've had 24 hours of frightening and dangerous weather. Everyone has been glued to the news. Tornado season again. My poor dog, Squirt, isn't well (back trouble), but he feels a serious obligation to watch out for us anyhow. He perches on the back of a chair and looks from window to window. Sometimes I think he might like a pair of binoculars. He barks at lightning, high winds, hail, and heavy rain as if he thinks it will leave if only he can intimidate it sufficiently.


































We manage to distract him occasionally, but he doesn't take long breaks. Sometimes he just has to rest to get ready for the next onslaught. I know he can sense when it is coming. He is more accurate than any weatherman. We can tell by the way he acts what we may be facing in terms of the weather.

















Several years ago we had an F4 tornado in our county. I had a friend from childhood who was killed in that one, so we take these warnings very seriously. I have relatives about 1/2 mile away who have a bona fide storm shelter and invite us to join them whenever we are urged by the weathermen to take cover. Of course, Squirt goes with us. Last time we felt the need to go, we got there just before the storm house door was closed. Missy was pulling her big, frightened Labrador Retriever down into the storm shelter and we followed right on her dog's heels with our little dog in tow. We all huddled down listening for the storm to be over. Suddenly we heard this deep growling sound and, of course, our little dog who was a guest in the shelter, was growling at the large dog, who was acting the gracious host to even allow us to join them. Wonder what Cesar Milan would say about my dog? I think I know.