Jennifer Hansen
Correspondent
The storm slipped in gently. Unaware of the forecast, I paid no attention. When soft patter began tapping on the skylights in the living room, I headed to the kitchen to wash, dry and put things away, making just enough noise not to hear the tapping become driving rain.
By the time I finished, the real storm was upon us. The first huge crack of thunder hit and I panicked. Duke, the older of my pair of boxers, sat watching me calmly, but Duchess, the only being in my household whose fear of thunder is greater than mine, was nowhere in sight.
A second thunderous crack sounded before I found her trembling and wedged between two couches in the den. She wasn’t stuck; she just couldn’t go forward and wouldn’t back up. In a maneuver complicated by the fact that I didn’t dare let go of her, I wiggled her backward until she was free enough to curl up in my arms and calm down. Then she came to her senses and beelined for the safety of her crate by my desk.