Barking at Thunder 2
Above the traffic and people on the boulevard below, I look out at the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean in the southernmost state of Florida. Occasionally the skies open with a downpour of rain then a crack of lightning slices the sky followed by a massive clap of thunder. These shows are often at night or in the early morning hours when lightning splices the horizon above the dark water and sound reverberates endlessly with nothing to stop it. The storms don’t last long but are intense.
I leave the sliding glass door to the deck slightly open so my dog can go outside if she needs. When the thunder bellows, she is on point. She races onto the deck between the raindrops and barks full throat at the sky, answering and assailing the thunder as if she is the one responsible for protecting our home. She stays out there til the thunder recedes then comes back soaking and pleased with herself. She has stopped the attack. When the sound starts up again, she turns and runs out into the rain to defend us and whatever else in her universe she feels is threatened by this assault of sound and light.
She is a small caramel-colored Australian labradoodle who normally prances down the boulevard making friends with everyone she meets. But when she is threatened, she is mighty. I have written about her brave, if useless, response to this perceived threat before. She has no understanding of the elements, and I have no way of schooling her. Instead I applaud her courage. Since she does no damage to herself or others, hers is not a cautionary tale of ignorance against forces she doesn’t understand. But I share it nonetheless in the hope those of us with more knowledge may avoid barking at thunder.
