For the second time in a week we have been, dare I say, blessed with thunderstorms rolling across the county.
Hail fell in various areas, power outages were the usual for some, and while we hated the damage done by wind, hail and electrical bolts crossing the sky willy nilly, we really needed the rain. The heat has been so horrendous that most of us just spend the afternoons inside with the a/c and fans.
Now this is not a story just about a thunderstorm. It is also about a dog.
Our little cocker mix, Chase, loves to run. She loves to run until she is near collapse and so whenever we go out with her we make her wear her leash. We have only had to chase her (notice her name, that’s how she got it) three times since we have known her and never since we have been owned by her. And so begins our story.
I have noticed that we are more apt to get bad weather when the weatherman fails to mention our existence. Is it just me? I don’t think so.
Yesterday afternoon (Thursday past) I noticed that the sky outside the heated afternoon window was darker than usual and thought I heard low rumbles of thunder. Mac went to the front door and opened it to look out. Not noticing Chase standing at his feet as he held the door cracked I heard him start yelling “CHASE STAY … ”
Then he began to say other things as he flew out the door hot on her trail. I grabbed the walker (still recovering from foot surgery here) and stumbled out the door yelling “bacon, Chase, BACON!” — but on she ran paying no attention to the treat bag I was waving over my head.)
As I stood in the center of the yard the wind was threatening to remove the walker from my tight grip to wrap around the truck. Chase was nowhere in sight. We were like cartoon characters muttering “which way did she go, which way did she go?” to each other.
Then suddenly she appeared in front of me and once again I started waving the treat bag. But she had a guinea fowl in her sight and on she ran.
Mac, promising a beating, ran after the dog who ran after the guinea who ran for the woods as fast as her short little legs could carry her … I lost sight of all of them. I stood there for five minutes before I saw Mac returning from the woods with Chase firmly attached to her leash looking none the worse for wear except maybe tired — both of them.
Asking after the guinea, all I got was a grunt in reply. We went into the house where I fully expected the beating to begin.
Announcing I had been promised to witness a beating and that the beating should commence, they both looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Well that was a given.
It was about then that the lights went out. And with them any hope that I would recover what was left of my wits.
It’s enough to drive me back to smoking.
— Sandi McBride is a resident of Jefferson who blogs regularly and enjoys her garden and her furry and feathered friends. She is a wife and mother of two sons.