I love summers in the South. We are pretty much guaranteed a great big thunderstorm at the end of every sweltering day. In my college years we used to make pitchers of margaritas and watch the storm from a porch. These days I long for liquor as I try and convince the four-year-old that the thunder and lightening aren't trying to get her.
Muffin is not unlike this terrier I used to have growing up. Free-be (terribly creative name for a free dog, no?) was furiously self sufficient and a holy terror to the cats in the neighborhood. However, the slightest hint of a thunder-boomer would send her scurrying under the house to whimper for the duration of the storm. Muffin also views herself as self sufficient, terrorizes the cats in the house and turns into a teary puddle of anxiety at the first rumble of thunder.
Last evening I heard the thunder rumbling and correctly anticipated that my daughter would surface from whatever mischief she was making to run into my arms. In an attempt to desensitize her (lessons from the therapist) I opened the front door and offered to sit with her and watch the storm. She clung to my leg and peered anxiously into the rain, flinching at every thunderclap.
Just as I was telling her "See! It's not so bad, right? Look, the rain is giving the earth a bath!" a bolt of lightening struck the tree across the road from our home. The hair on our arms was standing straight up! About a third of the tree split away and fell to the ground. Muffin let out a shriek of terror and fled from my side to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
So, it might take a little longer to desensitize her than I thought. I may as well forget that cute pair of shoes I saw the other day. I'm going to need that cash for the shrink.