Rain

My dogs do not like rain, the sound of it, the thunder, the mystery of it to them is like the Gods walking the skies and shooting balls of thunder. They shudder and quake, get as close to me as they can. I understand that fear of sound and fury that is outside your understanding or control. A winking, blinking un-identifiable fear that adresses all the nerves of the hide and mind.

We read that to comfort them in this fear was to magnify it.

I know that if I cover my dogs with their blanket, eyes and tails, sit by them on their pillow, they can sleep and not worry even if the thunder goes on and on and the rain pounds down all night.

How sad I would feel for them not to comfort them when I could. they are little children, not less.
Love,
Betty

My bird is afraid of thunderstorms. When she was a little bird and lived on a play gym next to my bed, never flying away; in a thunderstorm with lightning she flew into my bed, right next to my face and sat there, shivering.

One time she flew away during a cage cleaning and was out all night in a high pine in a thunderstorm.

Now, if she's on the porch and one starts, she'll make a frightened sound. All I have to do is say, "It's okay, Sport" and she quiets.

During the 4th of July, I sat on the porch with her and she was okay with it all.

Dear Diane,
Sport is a lucky bird to have you for a mom and an anole for a best friend. What a tale she could tell of her night excursion into the high pine!

I am trying to learn on piano, Georgia on My Mind, and when I think of the pines of Georgia as they present themselves in my memory eye, I can see Sport up high there, waiting for first light.

There is a music that pines play. Lacy,with moonlight and breeze and puffy clouds. I hear that music this minute and smell the wet pine needles of the forest floor and the toadstools sprouting.

Love,
Betty

I am with the animals. Electrical storms are scary--especially since Dave's great grandmother was killed during one.

I love storms, but sympathize with the animals. They have no grounds for comparison.

I love storms... so long as they're not too damaging.

Zada, it's great to see you're posting again!

I agree with Ahad.

Betty wrote:

Quote :

I know that if I cover my dogs with their blanket, eyes and tails, sit
by them on their pillow, they can sleep and not worry even if the
thunder goes on and on and the rain pounds down all night.

I have a CD of thunderstorms that I sometimes play to go to sleep by. The comforting part of hearing them is having a soft pillow under my head and a "comforter" to hide under, eyes and all.

The next time I get reincarnated, I want to come back as one of Betty's dogs.


Ann

Dear Ann,
I have to do it.
Here is the story of the flood.


It had been raining all day. It had been coming down in buckets (raining cats and dogs). Wooffer had been sleeping on the couch all day and was just plain bored! He wished the rain would stop. He could hear the wind howling through the trees and knew it was a bad storm. It raged on all night while he cuddled up next to his mom and slept a fitful sleep. He dreamed strange dreams of giant lizards and great green frogs. They were chasing him … chasing him … chasing him ….

When morning came at last, he was so happy to see the sun shining through the windows he did a double flip, raced over the top of the couch, through the kitchen, where he slid around the corners, back through the living room and once more around the kitchen before he stopped. He wanted to go OUT! His mom opened the door and he leaped all the steps and landed on the wet grass.

Everything was still very wet with the rain. There were big puddles to splash through and, before long, he was wet to the skin. He was feeling very good!

Wooffer decided to go visit the frogs first, and off he went as fast as he could. When he reached the ditch, he stopped short. The water was flowing very fast and the duck weed was almost all washed away — only a remnant clung to the edges of the banks and around the big weed trunks, where the water was making long arrow shaped ripples as it sped past. The frogs were not in sight. Wooffer leaped the ditch and was nosing through the broom weeds, splashing in the mud and smelling the fresh smells when all of a sudden he heard, “My children are all going to die! What to do? What to do?” It was a terrible sound.

Wooffer recognized the voice. It was Old Agnes, Mother of Thousands. He ran over to where the noise was coming from and there, in the middle of a great lake, was Old Agnes and most of her Thousands, holding on for dear life to a small clump of weeds and debris!

Old Agnes was carrying on in a great turmoil over her children. Oscar, the little mouse who had played “chase” with Wooffer, saw him at the edge of the water. He said, “Mother, just be still a moment. I think my friend can help us.”

Old Agnes screeched, “He will probably kill us all!” She had always been a loud mouse. Oscar called to Wooffer, and Wooffer came wading out to where he and the Thousands were. Oscar explained that, during the night, the rain had come down so hard it flooded their home and they had no time to get the Thousands to higher ground. Now, they were trapped on this little place in the middle of the water and did not know what to do. Most of his brothers and sisters were too little to swim and were in terrible trouble if they could not get to safety soon. He pleaded with Wooffer to try to think of a plan.

Wooffer thought for a few minutes and said, “I think we can do it. First, have the youngest ones climb onto my back and hold on tight to my hair. I will take them across the water to the dry side and come back for more.” With a lot of persuading on the part of Oscar, and a lot of telling Agnes to calm down, the little mice climbed onto Wooffer’s back and held on for dear life. Most of the morning Wooffer transported little ones of the Thousands to the other side of the water, until the only ones left were Old Agnes and Oscar. Old Agnes did not get to be a Mother of Thousands by taking a LOT of chances. She refused to ride on Wooffer’s back! She would swim herself. So, Oscar, who had made each trip across with his brothers and sisters, climbed onto Wooffer’s back and kept a watch on Old Agnes until she reach the bank at the edge of the water. There they all were, sitting under any wet grass they could, shivering and hungry. Wooffer knew they needed to get under cover soon. He told Oscar to stay there with them for a few more minutes while he made a place for them to be safe.

Not far away, there was a small hill of dirt grown over with grass and weeds that was dry. Wooffer began digging a hole into the side of the hill. Wooffer was born to dig holes, it seemed, because in no time at all he had a great tunnel that sloped up and then down deep — deep, into the little hill. When the hole was finished, he asked Oscar to come and see if it was good for his family.

When Oscar saw the tunnel and inspected its depth, he was awe struck. It was a Castle of a Mouse House! He looked at Wooffer with respect and admiration. What a dog!

It was not too long before all of the Thousands and Old Agnes were cozy and warm in their new home. Oscar rubbed noses with Wooffer and said, “Thanks a thousand, and a thousand times.”

Old Agnes began to count the Thousands to make sure none of them had been eaten or killed. Wooffer could hear her still counting the next day. She was up to one thousand and eighty-nine and still counting.



Love,

Betty

:-)

Thanks a thousand, Betty.

Ann

"...nice read, wish more people would write like that..." went the goblin who liked stormss and animals as long as he wasn't responsible for them now, repeating "...so let them be god's creatures then, I'll just enjoy coming into contact with them in their passing..."