A Night In The Life Of A Dog

Picking up where I left off in the last post, it is time for the third part of these posts, again from the point of view of the hound...

4:30 PM. The human is having tea. I am busy employing my standard mooching strategies- the sad eyes, the soft whining- to convince her to give me a cookie. Oatmeal! So much the better! Yum yum yum!

4:36 PM. Lying on my back in the living room, trying to sort out this curious feeling. Is there yet more for me to get done this day? Why do I feel this bizarre sensation that I’ve left things unresolved? Is to be continued something more than an entertainment device used by writers to get people to come back for the next installment of a series? What does it all mean?

4:59 PM. Getting awfully dark out there. I guess that rain they forecast for today is finally going to be showing itself in these parts. Say, human? Have you thought about making dinner early, you know… just in case the power goes out? Not to say that it will, or that I’m hungry. Well, I am hungry, but I’m a dog. I can just have polished off a full meal and still want to have something else.

5:17 PM. Even darker outside. Lightning flashing on the horizon. Oh, I don’t like lightning. It’s bad enough when it flashes like that, but it’s followed by that awful sound of thunder. And I don’t like thunder. It’s too loud and too scary and too… Come on, Loki, snap out of it, you’re supposed to be a heroic guard dog. And a good dog. I’m a very good dog. No matter what that cranky cat or the vet or the mailman or the town mayor might say, because between you and me, they’re all out to get me.

5:26 PM. And so the downpour begins outside. The human is busy closing windows, since it’s quite windy out there. I’m still seeing lightning, but not hearing the thunder yet…

5:39 PM. Running for my life down into the basement as the first of the thunder rolls right over the house as loud as any sound I’ve ever heard. Human! We’re more safe down here where the thunder can’t get at us!

5:42 PM. Cowering in the basement underneath the billiards table. Hearing the boom boom roar of the thunder. What happens if there’s a tornado? What happens if the human’s pink flamingo disappears off the lawn? Well, that might not be a bad thing, because that pink flamingo is seriously tacky.

6:25 PM. The rumbling seems to have passed. The human is calling me upstairs for dinner. I’m a bit torn. On the one hand, I’m nice and safe down here from the thunder if it comes back. On the other… dinner is waiting upstairs.

6:27 PM. After much internal debate, my stomach won out, and I carefully emerge from the basement and come into the kitchen. Human, I believe you mentioned dinner.

6:32 PM. Having dinner. The human has made bacon pancakes. Which I love, by the way. She’s cut up a plate of nice bite sized pieces for me, which of course is very thoughtful of her. They’re just the sort of comfort food one needs after listening to a bout of terrible boom boom roar thunder. Of course, I may come to regret it if the thunder comes back and I’m vomiting up bacon pancakes out of sheer panic.

6:40 PM. Examining the outside from the front windows. More dark clouds off to the west. Lightning flashing. Human? I thought when they actually forecast heavy rain and thunderstorms for today that by the time they’d actually show up, they’d be next to nothing. I mean, you say it yourself so often, weather forecasts don’t count for much in this crazy world. 

6:43 PM. Checking out through another window. Sure enough, the pink flamingo the human has out there is gone from its spot and is currently residing in the oak tree out by the barn. 

6:52 PM. The human is washing dishes. She’s set the Weather Channel on, and I’m watching. That paranoid lunatic forecaster that they’ve had to hospitalize occasionally for his panic attacks is on. He’s talking about the storms in our areas and is frantically suggesting we make sacrifices to Zeus to appease him.

I don’t get it. There’s a Chihuahua down the road named Zeus. Who would want to appease him?

6:58 PM. The lunatic forecaster is yanked off the air by producers after warning that this storm is a sign of the Zeuspocalypse. Whatever drugs they have him medicated on, they really need to up it by a factor of ten.

7:10 PM. The lightning has been getting closer, and now the thunder returns with a monstrous boom that sounds directly overhead. I bolt for the basement staircase. Screw women and children first, it’s dogs first!

7:33 PM. Cowering beneath the billiards table, listening to the nearly constant rumble of thunder. I swear to whoever’s listening that if I survive this night, I’m going to do everything in my power to be a better behaved good dog. Not that I’m not a well behaved good dog, because I am, but let’s face it, there’s always room for improvement. So I promise that I’m going to be nicer to that cranky cat down the road who has no sense of humour. I promise I’ll be nice to the vet. I promise I’ll stop barking at the mailman every day. And if I break this promise, may lightning strike…. the mailman.

8:28 PM. Still hiding as the thunder continues. The human comes downstairs to check on me. No, human, I have not thrown up out of panic. Yet. Yes, I’m hiding down here from the big bad scary noises that…. Mother of Lassie! Did you hear that boom? Say, how about you crawl in under the billiards table here with me? It’s nice and safe and away from the terrible thunder. 

8:29 PM. The human tells me that the thunder is just something that happens and there’s no need for me to be scared of it. I’m not scared. Just because I’m planting myself right here and refusing to move doesn’t mean I’m scared. It means I’m smart. I’m getting as low down away from that thunder as I can. It’s called a survival instinct. 

8:32 PM. The human gives up trying to coax me to come out and heads back upstairs. Don’t blame me if the thunder comes through the front door and kidnaps you and throws you ten kilometres away!

9:41 PM. The storm still hasn’t let up. It’s been over two hours since we had the last lull without thunder. What is this, are we stuck in a hurricane that someone didn’t notice until it was too late? I’ll tell you this much, even if it ends right now, my nerves are going to be way too shot to sleep well tonight. Please end right now, please end right now…

10:29 PM. Remaining in position, hiding under the pool table while the end of the world happens outside the house. The thunder just keeps coming. This is truly the Mother Of All Storms. Well, if any good comes out of it, it might just be that it prevents whatever world domination scheme the squirrels have in mind.

11:35 PM. The human calls downstairs telling me she’s off to bed. The storm continues. You go on, human. I’m staying right where I am until the world ends or that storm ends, whichever comes first, and between you and me, I think it’ll be the world ending. 

1:02 AM. More thunder. More rage. I haven’t gone up out of the basement. To be honest, I haven’t moved from under this table in nearly six hours. How can the human stand it? Up two stories above me hearing the storm howling and screaming all night long? 

2:20 AM. Listening and waiting. It’s been about twenty minutes now since I’ve heard any rumbles at all. Does that mean the storm is over? Or is it just waiting outside for me to let my guard down, come upstairs, and start howling all over again?

3:19 AM. Hedging my bets. Should I go upstairs or not?

4:15 AM. Gingerly coming up onto the ground floor in the darkness. Looking about. No signs of lightning outside. No sounds of rain falling anymore. I think it’s over.

Settling on the couch. Feeling beyond exhausted. Frayed at the edges.

Well, at least I didn’t vomit while panicking.

I was considerate enough to swallow it as it was coming up.