My Dog and I Hate Thunderstorms

I called my dad in a total panic a while back. I said, “What’s the weather like?”

“Look out the window. It’s raining.”

“But, what’s it GOING TO DO?” I asked, calmly.

The internet was down and I don’t have cable, and the uncertainty was killing me. It was like standing in the middle of the road just waiting to be run down by a truck because the traffic report didn’t come on. No, that wasn’t supposed to make sense. I take storms personally. If there is a tornado watch, that is because the tornado is thinking about directing itself at MY house. I feel the same about lightning. Walking outside during a storm, which I only do under extreme duress, like getting off work, I can feel all of the lightning energy particles lining up to direct themselves at my head. I never worry about the lightning hitting someone else. Not because I don’t care, but because it just wouldn’t. I feel as though it exists just for me.

My dog feels the same way. She doesn’t have the superior imagination that I have, though, meaning that she can’t envision the tornado sweeping down on our house, tearing off the roof and the walls around us while we all cling to the toilet bowl (which needs to be cleaned) hoping it will anchor us to the foundation. She just hates loud noises.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t have access to NOAA, Weather.com. or the local online weather report, or she’d be glued to them as the magenta storms blew in, her heartrate quickening each time she refreshed the page. And the terror of those red rectangles. And the yellow ones…if you are on top of your roof during a flash flood, what do you do about the lightning that is waiting to strike you?

I’ve had nights, when thunder was crashing and the wind was blowing and I was trying to avoid the thought of the tree that could come crashing down on top of the house and kill us all at any moment, when I tried to find peace. I thought of the Plains Indians who lived in tepees. Were they all chillaxin’ during tornadoes, or were they hyperventilating? The stereotype says that Native Americans are one with nature and all that, so I figured they were pretty chill. During one particularly magenta storm, I wrote some poetry about Mother Earth and wind and water and stuff. It was terrible.

I’ve gotten to the point where I’m okay with storms if A) I don’t look at the weather report, B) I am in the house and C) I am on my meds.

Seriously? This may not help my dog, but here are a few strategies I use besides the ones above:

I really do imagine that I could have lived on the plains and had to be brave, since if I had trembled and covered my ears in those days, I probably would have been sacrificed to the wolves or something. Pretending to be brave often results in bravery occurring.

I’ve desensitized myself to them somewhat by deliberately looking out the window during lightning storms and by walking in the rain.

Sometimes I distract myself by cooking something. It helps that the kitchen is in the middle of the house, where you don’t notice the thunder as much.

And really, I do avoid watching the weather forecasts unless I just feel like becoming paralyzed with fear. Remember, their page views and ratings depend on you clicking over/tuning in. They definitely play up the “severe weather” possibilities.