I’ve always been kind of afraid of thunderstorms.  It’s one of those fears that is a little bit embarrassing to admit, because really, I am well aware that the thunderstorm can’t harm me, won’t likely kill me or anyone I love, and is really just a little bit of water combined with a little bit of noise, but nonetheless they leave me feeling unsettled.  I think maybe this irrational, childish fear has its roots in the deep, rumbling thunder that used to echo spectacularly up and down the river valley in which our cottage was located when I was a kid, and the time I laid awake for an hour fervently praying for the thunder to stop, only to have my cat Mickey jump from the top level of our perpendicularly construction bunk beds directly onto my chest in the pitch dark, and then subsequently leave a dead mouse in my bed the next morning as what my instinct tells me must have been a peace offering (and one only a cat would find at all appropriate).

I think I’m in good company today, though.  About an hour ago, the sky turned pitch black and rain started to fall in very large quantities of very fat drops, accompanied by the usual bass rumbles, and ever since then our dog has been sitting at attention under the protection of my desk, occasionally resting her chin on my thigh and giving me the Sad Eyes she reserves for when Something Is Seriously Wrong.  It’s a little pathetic, and no amount of behind-the-ear-scratching seems to alleviate her need to hide from the scary thunder, and I’m having one of those frightening moments where I realize I can totally relate to the dog.