Okay so, is this weird weather the beginning of the end, 2012. Yesterday, a chilly start, but temps reached the mid seventies, this morning, a balmy sixty three degrees. Actually, today was again mid seventies but the windy tropical afternoon has turned into a very wild weathered evening. Intense thunder, lightning and tornadoes all over the place, and dear God, rain, sheets at a time. Did I say the ponds at the golf course were drying up....how silly, you have to avoid the ones along he roadway, they have, in a matter of thirty minutes, overflowed their banks, spilling out into the road creating ponds that seem to go forever. Much to my amazement, none of the palms uprooted. The winds howled up to sixty-five miles an hour, bending them over much like an arch, catapulting anything that was loosely attached on the tops. Most people have just spent close to a hundred bucks having their elegant palms, trimmed. All they had to do is wait.....the wind has scatter wilted and dead palm fronds from one end of the community to the other.
Mr. Bill called me as I was heading home, "hurry the storms are moving fast, they are close to Mrs. G's home on the west coast." Sorry Mr. Bill, the rains are already hitting Orlando. As I arrived home he was sitting outside, waiting for me. The Egg-Nazi, not a fan of thunder storms, as for me, I enjoy watching the skies. He used to say he felt very safe inside Fred's News, with two floors above the place...of course he felt safe! Him and Fred the Dog would comfort each other through storms, so much so, I believe they were attached at the hip. Fred the Dog always able to predict the impending storms, usually within fifteen minutes of it's arrival. If it should happen overnight, he'd try to jump on the bed, letting Mr. Bill know, it's time to "shake in our booties" together.
For Fred the Dog, spending his days, outside on the back dock, or perhaps strolling up and down the driveway welcoming patrons, was a way of life. He was like the little Fred's News beacon, sort of a "welcome-wagon". If you parked outside in the driveway, petting Fred the Dog was part of the ritual as you entered the restaurant. One particularly hot, humid afternoon, nasty thunder storms developed, people ran for cover, thunder, so loud, with blinding flashes of lightning. Everyone running into the place when Mr. Bill hollers, "OMG...Fred the Dog is still outside in the back!" Heading out on to the porch,"Fred, come here boy where are you?" they all hollered...but no bouncing, happy Fred the Dog appeared. "Where the hell is he" questions the Egg Nazi. As he turns to come back into the restaurant, he hears scratching at the front door, followed by a series or short little barks......Fred the Dog had slithered along the building, onto the front sidewalk and was pressing his water logged collie fur in to the front door. That poor boy stood there, shaking, looking so pitiful, hair totally matted to his slim body. Mr. Bill hurried to the door, letting in the poor and shaking pitiful pup. All the while he dried Fred off, that dog would not look at him. Slightly ticked off his best friend left him to fend for himself......Mr. Bill was on his pooh-pooh list.
Mr. Bill called me as I was heading home, "hurry the storms are moving fast, they are close to Mrs. G's home on the west coast." Sorry Mr. Bill, the rains are already hitting Orlando. As I arrived home he was sitting outside, waiting for me. The Egg-Nazi, not a fan of thunder storms, as for me, I enjoy watching the skies. He used to say he felt very safe inside Fred's News, with two floors above the place...of course he felt safe! Him and Fred the Dog would comfort each other through storms, so much so, I believe they were attached at the hip. Fred the Dog always able to predict the impending storms, usually within fifteen minutes of it's arrival. If it should happen overnight, he'd try to jump on the bed, letting Mr. Bill know, it's time to "shake in our booties" together.
For Fred the Dog, spending his days, outside on the back dock, or perhaps strolling up and down the driveway welcoming patrons, was a way of life. He was like the little Fred's News beacon, sort of a "welcome-wagon". If you parked outside in the driveway, petting Fred the Dog was part of the ritual as you entered the restaurant. One particularly hot, humid afternoon, nasty thunder storms developed, people ran for cover, thunder, so loud, with blinding flashes of lightning. Everyone running into the place when Mr. Bill hollers, "OMG...Fred the Dog is still outside in the back!" Heading out on to the porch,"Fred, come here boy where are you?" they all hollered...but no bouncing, happy Fred the Dog appeared. "Where the hell is he" questions the Egg Nazi. As he turns to come back into the restaurant, he hears scratching at the front door, followed by a series or short little barks......Fred the Dog had slithered along the building, onto the front sidewalk and was pressing his water logged collie fur in to the front door. That poor boy stood there, shaking, looking so pitiful, hair totally matted to his slim body. Mr. Bill hurried to the door, letting in the poor and shaking pitiful pup. All the while he dried Fred off, that dog would not look at him. Slightly ticked off his best friend left him to fend for himself......Mr. Bill was on his pooh-pooh list.
What is it that makes dogs cower at the sound of thunder? Every dog I owned was like that. They were all very brave, stalwart and the bane of all cats. But just let a little thunder come their way and the tail went between the legs and they would all fall into panting fits. Five minutes after the storm, it was like nothing happened. Somehow they felt no embarrassment whatsoever.
ReplyDeleteUnless they are deaf, that is so true. Always "man's best friend" until a storm, then the roles are reversed. Maybe they figure for their dedication, it's owed them. In that case, truer words were never spoken.
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