One of the disturbing things about being in a hurricane-prone area is that you're always crossing your paws and hoping the storm goes somewhere else. (If the storm does come your way, you're also crossing your paws and hoping you can make it until it's OK to go outside for a potty break, as I mentioned a few days ago, but that's another story.) Sadly though, just when you're relieved that the storm has been mild in your area and gone off in another direction to other places, you discover that it has caused lots of damage in those other places. So you start to feel guilty.
Fay has indeed been a whacky storm. She left us here in South Florida with much less rain and wind than forecast, but then has proceeded to cause interminable rain and flooding on her erratic slow-moving path across almost our whole state --where we have lots and lots of friends, human and canine.
As a neophyte weather dog, I plan to explore the positive effect of barking to chase away storms. So far barking has had a salutary effect on my pals in need of support. I wonder how the power of the paw will work on future storms.
Right now, however, Just Harry and I are planning a quick trip to Mayemphis next week, to look after Gussie's muzzer and provide a bit of a masculine counterbalance to all the beautiful wirey nurses who will be looking after Gussie as he has a neck lump named Rodney removed on Tuesday. So much to bark about. So little time.
The Ballad of the Nordic Snowflake
2 hours ago