I was awoken this morning about 4:30 to a large black and furry paw to the face. As I attempted to clear out the dust from my sleepy brain I could hear the thunder clasps and see the flashes of light dance across the sky. It was Otis attached to the paw telling me he was not about to sit this storm out alone so I’d better get up. Otis has had a fear of storms ever since we moved here to upstate SC where summer storms are known to pop up almost every afternoon. Personally I have a passion for storms that provide a muscular wind that instigates tree branches to twist and turn, a rain that drenches you to the bone as it attacks you and hits you with a slap, a light show that can only be upstaged by Trans Siberian Orchestra. But, with Otis my loyal fur-child around I must awaken from my serene undemanding dream as I am denied any pleasure kindled by this storm of the early morning. As I creep from the bedroom and very softly close the door, I watch with delight as the sky continues to sparkle and the thunder breaks the silence of the sleeping house.
I must care for my Otis: I speak to him in a gentle, soothing, and motherly voice as I hug him firmly. We walk side by side to the kitchen where the promace pills are kept for just such mornings. Once Otis has had his pill, we lay tenderly on the living room floor, his head upon my chest, his breathing slowing to a tranquil state. I watch as his eyelids commence to close even as he struggles the inescapable. As he doses off into sweet dreams, I hear one last thunderbolt clamor through the stillness and witness one last shimmer dash across the horizon as I as drift back into peaceful slumber.