A Night Storm
Lying
on the small bed on the screened in porch that faces the creek a gathering
storm rises up over the mountain to the west, preceded by a low ominous rumble.
The storm clouds boil and mix in the dark sky like a cauldron of witches brew. Three
warm dogs lying on the undersized bed insistently pressing their bodies close
to me in the dark snuggle ever closer like tangled spaghetti. J.D. trembles and pushes her head as close to
my face as she possibly can. She is frightened by the approaching turbulence.
Something deep within her ancestry is telling her that danger is eminent. The storm
clouds loom over the Western horizon and push over the crest of the adjacent
mountain as dark clouds gather in a darker sky. Wind rises up from the same
direction making the leafy trees dance in synchronized perfection while a
glimpse of lightening ricochets off the side of the porch. Moose stirs
imperceptibly as one glistening eye opens questioning me as to just what is
going on. The heat from his body warms the backs of my knees which overlap him
and rest over his ribcage as he almost sleeps there, almost. A shudder passes through his giving frame while
the rise and fall of his rhythmic breathing beneath my weight raises and lowers
my legs in conjunction with the inhalation and exhalation of my own. His ribs
press up against my underside massaging and warming me from the bottom up with undisguised
affection.
J.D.’s
breath smells briny like shrimp and squid as she licks the soft crepe skin
under my chin and looks at me with large questioning eyes that sparkle in the
darkening twilight, searching for guidance. She continues to thrust her smelly tongue
over and over into the crevice beneath my chin. Disgusted I push her off the
bed but she immediately recovers her spot, instantly forgiving me for
displacing her. I can tell that she is nervous and concerned about the
approaching tempest but her profound trust and confidence in me over rules her
instinct. She believes I know best and acquiesces to my judgment. Brownie with
all four feet and legs sticking straight up, twitching in the air continues her
repetitive, comatose snoring unconcerned about the approaching storm. At the first
clap of thunder however, she will leap suddenly up and race hysterically
through the house seeking cover and protection, yapping and howling the entire time.
Of course there will be none because our open home rocks with the rolling
thunder and lightning as it reverberates through each and every crevice and
corner of our dwelling. Brownie will find no refuge except at Linda’s hip,
trembling in the chair next to her. Still at this point the three dogs huddle
ever closer and it feels as though they might mysteriously trespass directly
through my skin into my body and become a part of me, as though proximity alone
would protect them from the storm.
