When Storms May Come. Pt. 2

(Cont. from Pt. 1)

We thought we were getting a puppy, or perhaps a young dog of 1 or 2. I mean, Shih Tzu's hold their own very well, and it's difficult to guess their age. But when I took Queenie to the vet the first time, he looked at her teeth and eyes, and said, "You have a ten year old dog here." And given that small dogs accumulate about 6 years for every one of their human compatriots, my little lass was all of 60; (and would soon outpace me). That was three human, (almost 20 dog) years ago.

And I think for the passing of the years, our aging pup has succumbed to any simblance of self-control when it comes to the slightest hint of precipitation. Queenie's demeanor kinda reminds me of an experience I had in south Florida after Hurricane Andrew. 

My National Guard unit, along with 35,000 additional troops, had been called to Homestead to assist the people of that devastated city, and surrounding area. One day as I stood outside a flea market which served as an emergency food stamp center, the slightest breeze wafted past, and a few rain clouds arose. As a result, a little girl, she might have been five or six, began to well up with tears, and cry aloud. I thought, "Well, that's an unusual response." But as I soon learned, 'Gracie'  and her parents had (foolishly) remained in their home during the storm, and came close to losing their lives.

 I don't recall when 'it' began happening. Perhaps this year. I mean, Queenie had always displayed anxiety and could not remain still during a rain storm. But if those kind of symptoms represented a 5 on a scale of 10, having crossed 'a fine line in the sand,' suddenly her rating jumped off the scale.

(to be continued) 


 By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 43. Copyright pending

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