Sunday noitcelfeR

 It's a quiet morning here, at 9:15. That's because thunderstorms rolled through the night, and my 9-yr-old chow Lt. Kije needed comforting. All night. ALL. NIGHT.

I understand that dogs get scared in thunderstorms. I don't understand why. Every other animal on earth ignores them. Rabbits squat happily in the rain chomping clover. Raccoons raid trash cans. Birds continue to hunt and gather; robins especially enjoy the worms crawling out of the soaking soil. In nature shows, I've never seen baby elephants or monkeys or apes or giraffes try to crawl under their mothers in abject fear of thunder and lightning.

I've always loved thunderstorms, especially at night. I don't live in an area that gets the spectacular lightning bolts like they get out west. Most storms predictably roll from Philly to the shore, right over our house. From the time I was very little, I would go out on the front porch glider and watch the storm, count the seconds between lightning and thunder, trace the path as it moved east. 

My parents, who were both bowlers, told me the angels were bowling, and lightning strikes were just that--strikes; all ten pins down at once. I knew they were lying. I looked it up in the encyclopedia. I think that's when I first began to be interested in electricity.

But I can't explain electricity to Lt. Kije. At the first hint of ozone, he starts panting and making little grunts--not whimpers. He knows what's coming before we do.

But the night storms send him upstairs to the bedroom, where he stands very close to the bed breathing on me. Then he noses me. Then he buries his head under my pillow to try to get me up. I put out an arm, and he ducks under it. I rub his ruff and his ears. Then he inches forward so I rub his shoulders. Inches again, I rub his back. Inches again, until finally I'm just caressing the tip of his tail. Then he wanders off.

A minute or so later, it starts all over again. 

And while the storms do pass, and the rain stops, the thunder continues to roll through the night. So Lt. Kije returns every ten minutes or so. He knows I'll keep him safe.

He watching over Israel slumbers not, nor sleeps.