Monday, March 7, 2016

Thunder Puppeh

Because she was actually IN a funnel cloud, Mama Dog hates lightning.
"Hate" isn't a strong enough word: She's terrified of it. She once scratched through wood, wiring, insulation and halfway through sheetrock to get inside the house when it was storming back in Georgia.

To that end, living in LA has proved a blessing for her because, as the song and drought forecasts say, "It never rains in southern California."

Well, it's not only raining at this very moment, It's lightning up - a storm. Bad timing. The last of the dog tranquilizer, Acepromazine, was used up on the Fourth of July. (Tallulah, who was stone deaf, was the only pup who didn't see what the fuss was about.)

I don't know if this can be called a 'life hack' exactly, but I'm feeling pretty smart: Mama Dog's shaking so badly that I gave her two of her brother Roger's phenobarbital tablets. (For anyone keeping score at home, my boy had a bad couple of seizure episodes, necessitating the daily use of said strong medication.)

No, he's not her actual brother: He's a standard poodle who weighs 70 lbs and she's a big shepherd/husky mix weighing maybe 10 more than that, but they so share my last name. And medicine cabinet.

Which brings me to gratitude. Thunder doesn't thrill me, either, but how fortunate am I to no longer have the desire to WASH DOWN A COUPLE OF BARBS WITH A BEER TIL IT PASSES!?

On second thought, when I was getting loaded, I'm pretty sure I didn't need a special occasion to wash down anything. Lest I sound as if I saved up for legitimate reasons. Breathing was as good as any.

Except for how it's shaking up the beesties, I'm grateful for the reminder thunder brings.

Lemme hear an amen from my "one storm at a timers".


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