Thundering Dogs
Why is it that some dogs are so afraid of thunder? At this moment, there is rumblings of thunder going on. It’s been like this for a week. Every night, there is thunder. Sometimes there is rain and lightning too, but there is always thunder.
And our big, mean, vicious, protective guard dog turns into a wuss. He tries to jump in our laps (very inconvenient when one has a laptop on one’s lap!), snuggle his way into the crevice between us and the couch, and generally whines and is miserable. The only thing that makes it halfway tolerable for him is to hide under the bed. Which he won’t do if no one is actually on the bed!
Chewie – on a happier, sunnier day
So last week while Hubby was playing his video game and Chewie was going nuts trying to get on his lap, I went into the bedroom, caught up on some shows and he was happy to be under the bed, in a safe place (Chewie, that is… Hubby was happy to be playing his game in the tv room… silly person, you can’t play video games under the bed!)
Now it is rumbling again and Chewie is trying to get into my lap. Hubby is out to dinner with one of his work guys. So off to the bedroom I go!
I used to have a dog named Clyde when I was in eighth grade. I say he was my dog, but my mom bought him. I remember distinctly that I got picked up from Mr. Ryan’s class before the end of a school day (a very rare occurrence!) so my mom could pick up “her dog”. I, of course, have no memory of where we went to pick him up, but I sure to remember getting picked up myself.
I don’t know if it was love at first sight or not. But somehow he ended up being my dog. He was a big black lab – I don’t think he was ever small! We must have gotten him as a full grown dog – I don’t remember really having to train him or ever changing sizes – he was always big!
At that point, I had a room to myself. I had a bunk bed that I had both sections on the floor – so there was no top bunk or bottom bunk. I took one corner of my room and put either bunk bed there so it created a box. To get into the middle, you had to go over a bed. I slept in either bed – it never mattered to me. Clyde slept in my room – either on the spare bed or on some blankets on the floor in the “box” and I was the one to walk him in the morning.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the house I grew up in is very old. At this point in time, the front door was not working well. Opening it was not the problem – keeping it from opening was! The latch had pretty much worn away in the door jam and it wouldn’t catch. So every once in a while, I would wake up and Clyde would be gone. I’d go down the stairs, and there was the front door, wide open. I’d be in my night gown, no slippers or shoes (I’m sure my mother was thrilled about that!) looking for Clyde. I would find him, usually pretty close by. But there were several times I had to run down the street to the stop sign. There Clyde would be, in front of the 18 wheeler truck driver who lived up the street. He’d be barking and barking and not letting the poor guy get through the intersection.
Big, brave dog, huh? Unless, of course, it was … raining, thundering or lightning! That dog was huge (I’m sure you all have a good idea of how big labs get!) and the only thing he wanted to do was jump in my little twin bunk bed with me – right next to me – and whine in my ears.
But not all dogs are bothered by it. Pansy is acting all normal… no worries for her. So – what’s the deal? Anyone know why some dogs get so wound up and others don’t?