Storm Alert System

I was laying in bed having one of those rare deep sleeps when I heard a loud commotion downstairs with Taz barking like mad. Rather than wake Brent, who is a very sound sleeper, I raced down the stairs and searched for Taz. Without turning on the lights I scanned the kitchen and realized Taz was outside barking as thunder boomed and the door shook  in its hinges.

Was someone trying to break into my house? I crouched down to the small dog door and stuck my hand through, felt soft fur and quickly withdrew my hand in surprise. I hesitated only a moment, thinking of an intruder, but knew I had to save my puppy! I was pumped as I grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open to meet whoever was smashing into it on the other side.

As the door flew open there was a loud crack of thunder and I was knocked backwards by one hundred and fifty pounds of fuzzy white dog, who was tightly followed by eight pounds of Super Taz furry.

The Gus

Apparently Gus does not like thunderstorms and was kind enough to let me know there was one on the way. Taz was not too fond of having her sleep interrupted and kept a close eye on her giant brother while I glanced out the window to see a flash of lightening.

My “Storm Alert System” ¬†turned out to be very handy as the horses were having a night out in the paddock. I glanced out the window and saw another flash of lighting, so I grabbed my raincoat and shoes and started running into the horse paddock screaming “ponies!” I always call them ponies.

Ponies!. I came across a very startled Splash who was enjoying the round bale and not the least put out by the lightly falling rain or light show. Silly me, why would a blind horse be the least bit bothered by a bit of lightening?

I found Turtle and Autumn hiding in the leanto out of the rain. I dragged them both towards the gate and they picked up their ambling pace when the thunder boomed and the rain got heavier. I managed to get all three horses in the barn before the deluge started.

I was standing in the barn panting when I made a startling realization: no pants. In my rush I managed to remember my coat and shoes, but no pants. Thankfully is was before 5 am.

Standing outside in the barn enjoying the storm I had a funny childhood memory: My father was a volunteer firefighter and we lived half a block from the hall. When the fire alarm would sound (the fire hall had an outside alarm that would sound when there was a fire) my father would startle awake from his nap on the couch where he was most comfortable with his pants on the floor, and race down the block with my mother hot on his trail yelling “Frank! Your pants!”

Damp and sweaty I giggled as I watched the storm roll in and thought having animals is really worthwhile.

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