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It's Weenie Dog! |  |
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No, I don’t mean all the tourists are going home and it’s safe to venture out to Wal-Mart after 3:00 again. No, I’m referring to the thunderstorms we get this time of year. I do not like thunderstorms. I’m from Southern California and have an inbred fear of brushfires and lightening starts so many of those. Between that, the chance of being electrocuted and the loud noise, I’m rather unhappy. The only loud noise I like is screaming guitars with the amps set at 11. But no matter how unhappy I am, it’s nothing compared to my dogs. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, that flash in the sky means the return of WEENIE DOG! All three of my dogs, in fact, every dog I’ve even known has hated thunder. They don’t much like the fourth of July either and believe it or not, they even don’t like screaming guitars. They just look at me and I can tell they’re thinking, “Oh, God, it’s The Who, again” and go hid under the table until the last chord of “Magic Bus” is over. I’ve had dogs that hide under the bed or even howl back during thunderstorms. I’ve seen dogs that wet themselves or chew their legs raw because of their nerves. But, I’ve never seen a dog just completely fall apart like my Scooby does. Scooby is a Jack Russell Terrier we got from the local shelter. Normally, he is a man of action. He regularly patrols his yard making sure the birds, grasshoppers and neighbors know who is boss. He’ll fight with the other two dogs, can jump six feet straight up from a sitting position to knock down passing birds and can skip from one end of the yard to the other with only touching the ground a maximum of three times. In the car, he rides on the dashboard. Ever alert, if we pass cattle, another dog or, God forbid, another car is actually ahead of us, he goes to DefCon 5 and barks and snarls until foam is flying from his mouth. He is WONDER DOG and is willing to sacrifice his life for mine in the fulfillment of his duties. Until it clouds up. With the first low rumbling from miles away, he starts shaking and shedding and you know if the storm doesn’t stop soon, he’ll be bald. Then, he has to find a place to hide. Apparently, the safest place in my home is behind the toilet. I’ll go looking for him and find him facing the wall behind the toilet, shaking, nearly bald, and not being wondrous in the least. He is Weenie Dog. One time, I finally coaxed him out of his hidey spot just to have him follow me around the house right on my heels. I opened the freezer door and he climbed in. I was completely ignorant of the safety of the inside drawer of my freezer. It’s even safer than behind my toilet according to Weenie Dog. I’ll have to remember that next time burglars attack my home. Another time, he was hiding in the corner next to the bookshelf. My daughter tried to tempt him with doggie treats and toys but he wasn’t budging. Nothing was going to make Weenie Dog leave his ultra safe hidey place behind the bookshelf and he was quite content to just stay there and lose hair. So I put a hot dog bite in the middle of the room, about four feet away from him. He came out, ate the hot dog bite, and went back to his corner. I guess he thought if he was going to die, it would not be on an empty stomach. Words to live by. |
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