Quarrel with Thunder

Quarrel with Thunder 

     Thunder rumbled like a deep-throated grumbling growl in the dog’s throat.  His ears pinned listening for the distant echo as he stands, braced on all fours, motionless in the bay window.  The maples trees and pines wrestle with the wind.  Vibrations precede, give way to a roar, while the old cottage walls beckon and windowpanes rattle.  The dog launches into an echoing symphonic tempo straining vocal cords to match; the duel begins.  A protective defense against Mother Nature’s fury.  Soon the other dog joins in the dispute; one rumbling lion like bark followed by the other.

    The dogs bark in ferocity taking on the storm in its daring approach.  Lightning flashes as a strobe,  “One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three”  – flash, crack, thunder broils in dispute, the dogs counter.   Streams of rain tear from the clouds rinsing dusty leaves delicately fashioned with daffodil yellow pollen dust.  The quarrel continues as the dogs relocate to new positions within the cottage.  They bark throaty growls in tandem, supporting each other and holding their own against the on-slot of the storm.

    Their defiance pays while at last the thunder recedes. In its wake, only the gentle patter of raindrops slip to the ground off leaves and eves are heard.  The dogs retreat to their mistress, exhausted, content and felling victorious. 

    Safe and protected under the covers in her bed, in her bedroom, windows closed, curtains drawn and hiding from the storm as the dogs’ mistress listened with sound relief while her companions stood guard and challenged the violent thunder storm.  Unwilling to show her fear she laid still attempted passivity and pretended to read silently by flashlight.

 That was then. . .