Togo Goes on Storm Alert

I don’t like loud noises that sound like thunder. Guns. Fireworks. Trucks backfiring. And . . . well, thunder.

My friends down at Dr. L’s vet clinic tell me that they love to go hunting. I totally get the running around in the field, scaring birds, and spending time with humans. But the sound of thunder coming from a gun is a non-starter for me.

I have a really sensitive nose. I can smell the rain from miles and miles away. And, Daddy’s right, rain smells good. But it also puts me on alert and I carefully listen for thunder. Because thunder follows lightning. And my memories of nights punctuated with flash-booms make me very nervous.

I think I’ve shared my preferences about being outside. I do like my dog igloo and snuggling into fresh hay. You are more likely to find me snoozing on my swing in the early hours before dawn even when the air is frigid and the winds are blowing. Actually, you are very likely to find me in my swing any time of the night or day.

When thunder rolls, even if it’s from a storm far, far away, all of that changes. If Momma and Daddy are awake, I go to the back door and tap it with my toenails. That’s the signal for them to let me in. Sometimes they don’t. It’s usually because they haven’t smelled the rain or heard the far-away thunder. However, since they know that I do, they will eventually let me in and let me take cover inside.

I have a storm shelter. It’s pretty big and I fit perfectly. Momma covers it with an old bedsheet to help keep out the lightning flashes and she turns on my fan to help drown out the thunder boomers. Daddy says that the sheet is really to keep my fur contained and that the fan is to help simulate the constant West Texas breezes because, despite the huge amount of fur I’m capable of shedding, I am always hot when I’m inside. But I know why Momma does those things. It’s because she loves me.

Daddy tells me that he’s practical. He tells me that if I curl up in my dog igloo and close my eyes, the lightning won’t bother me. And the thunder is just noise. Like fireworks and trucks backfiring. Easy for Daddy to say since he doesn’t hear very well. And if he would just think, he would remember that I don’t like those noises either. Practical thinking and his poor hearing don’t really make me feel any better.

But Daddy loves me, too. When the lightning and thunder come in the middle of the night, he’s often the one at the door inviting me to make the short scamper from my igloo inside to my storm shelter. And when I get inside, he turns on my fan, rubs my head and ears, and tells me I am going to be safe. And in the morning, he wakes me up and lets me out. “All clear, big buddy,” Daddy will say.

I know I am fortunate to have a storm shelter. Everyone should have a place to go where they feel safe and don’t have to feel afraid. It might be a tight fit, but if you don’t have a safe place, you’re welcome to share mine.