You're Too Big To Be Afraid Of A Little Rain, Bubba!

It sounded like an explosion. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would’ve thought it was just that. The night went off like a flash bulb. I could see for a quarter mile through the deluge. The smell of sulfur was thick and unyielding.

Poor Merlin; He leapt from his bed and frantically crashed into the front door. I held him close and told him it was just noise and that he shouldn’t be frightened. I tried to appear convincing, which isn’t easy when your dealing with a dog that owns exceptional skills in cross-species communications.

It was one of those storms straight out of a murder mystery. The kind I always scoffed at and swore spoiled the story because it wasn’t realistic. Way too dramatic. This was real alright. Wet shuddering electricity streamed downward with conviction and made contact with something in the distance. The sound about knocked me off my feet. My façade was faltering, so I sat on the stoop and put my arm around the quivering canine in hopes of reassuring both of us.

You’re too big to be scared of a little rain, Bubba.

His eyes were wide and questioning. With a thoughtful hunch, his head cocked slightly, he stared at me from the corner of his eye. He was giving me that look. The one he gets when he’s absorbing information and either trying to make sense of it, or letting me know he thinks I‘m full of shit.

What?…okay, it’s loud and bright and a little scary.

I hate it when he coaxes the truth out of me. Not the part where the dog appears smarter than me, it’s that he starts licking and stuff like he’s all proud of me for getting it. Then I have to go in and wash the dog off me, and heaven forbid I don’t come back out with the cookie he just won in the stare down.

Arthur, Morgan and Freya casually emerged from under the lawn chairs and joined us on the stoop. Merlin’s not what you’d call a cat lover, he’s more of a cat co-existent. He likes them fine if they stay out of his food and don’t try to cuddle on a hot day. Right then he gave them all a lick, then attempted to scrape the fur-balls off the top of his mouth nonchalantly, so as not to offend. They blinked acknowledgement of his gesture and continued watching the sky. He smiled and quivered and nosed Arthur, who leaned into it with the passion of a cross-eyed Siamese, almost missing the mark.

After the storm leveled out, I messed up everybody’s fur a little, stretched Merlin’s face out and told them not to wake me up for anything, but an act of God over 90 miles an hour.

When I got up in the morning, I went to cleaning out the garden lean-to. I got it all nice and clean and organized for fearful animals, in case I’m not home next time to hold their paws. I’d given up on it a while back because of the nightly visits by a destructive possum. That stinky critter didn’t come back after that last storm. Either Merlin finally got sick of it licking his bowl, or it was that thing stinking on B highway.

The weather has been all off kilter this year. It poured where it should have been dry, it baked where it should’ve rained, shorelines were altered, and we’re on our second enormous hurricane off the Gulf Coast in the same month. All the news coverage has given it a Hollywood feel to those of us not in the midst of the damage. I guess that’s how everyone else felt a couple years ago when we were pummeled by a record breaking rash of tornados. I have a dreadful feeling in my belly and am a bit concerned to what kind of winter we will have here in the Midwest. Most of all, I hope I never have to experience the terror of that force ever again. We were lucky, most of our neighbors were not. My prayers are with those presently dealing with Mother Natures wrath and you count me in on the collective will to calm her down.

Hopefully, the intensity of Hollywood’s, The Day After Tomorrow will never come.
9/21/2005 11:11 PM
word count 714

Buttlessman, Insano & Wonderdog

Merlin, the keeper of the field and guardian of the screw gun, let out a holler that could suck his wagger clear up his tail pipe and outta his noise whole. Keeping with my routine, I bolted out the back door, flashlight in hand and scoured the south field for activity. A large shadow moved across the north window of my divine little shop that is now nestled in the corner of our clover field. I moved a little closer and held the light beam high as I peeked through the sun flowered wall of my garden. An eye glinted in the light as it turned to stare back at me. Merlin nosed my thigh and smiled up at me in his Do-I-get-a-Scooby-snack-now-? grin.

Two large ears twitched and swivelled, then the lanky intruder meandered out of sight. Deer are inquisitive creatures. They say curiosity killed the cat. It's killed more deer than anything else. A large doe was peeking in my store window and was non-plused by the dogs yellow-alert tirade. She was much more interested in checking out the shiny new obstruction in her path.

Either you need glasses or you need more lessons on what not to bark at. No cookie this time stink-butt. I'm goin' back in.

We've been working real hard around here lately. not that it isn't the norm. It's just different. You see, that little shop I mentioned previously, is now nearly complete on the outside. It's only missing the rails and the tin on the roof of the front porch....and a little barn wood front wall. The doors are now locked tight. There's nothing in there to steal yet, but I like exercising my right to lock out miscreants. Too bad I couldn't have done that day before yesterday. Actually, I could have, I just didn't. Thing is, it only had two walls, so the whole locking thing would've been a ludicrous futility. In fact, I teased John the day before when we went up to the house to eat.

John: Think anybody'll run off with the generator?
Me: Na, lock the doors.

I received the appropriate hesitation and then squint thing he does when he's contemplating my sanity. I rather enjoy pushing that button. Keeping the straight face as he sizes up the situation is the hard part.

John has been working very hard with a rag-tag team of volunteers to bring my store into existence. So being robbed is so unjust. He's worked so hard he's become concave where a butt should be. Gross visual huh? Well, it's true! It's a bird....it's a plane...no...it's Butt-less Man! Able to leap tall corn stalks in a single bound, able to bend corrugated steel siding with his bare hands...

Did I say robbed? ...yeah, we were robbed. Our sweaty little work force broke for lunch and high-tailed it to Sheldon to eat dinner. We were gone an hour. When we returned, no tools. They cleaned us out. All but the screw gun, and they had every intention of taking it. They had stretched out the extension cord and half untied the electricians knot before dropping it in the dust. Apparently they were interrupted in mid-thieving. Near as I could guess, the dog woke from his nap on the house porch in time to stop them from getting the last, oldest and most inexpensive tool.

Good dog.

9/2/2005 2:2 AM
word count 556