I usually enjoy the sounds of a good thunderstorm, but we've had one almost every day for the past couple of weeks. Frankly, I've reached my quota. That's enough rain, thank you very much.
In this part of the country, thunderstorms frequently mean power outages, and today I was one of the Lucky Lightning Lotto winners. I stepped into my living room after work, flipped the light switch, and nothing happened. Oh, joy! No air conditioner, no computer, no TV, no phone (except the cell).
It was unbelievably dark at only 5:30 in the afternoon. Even with the blinds open, there was barely enough light for me to find my way to the candle stash. While I was feeling around for matches, with Kadi pressing her agitated self against the back of my legs, something crossed my mind that brought a big smile to my face.
I realized that in the worst case scenario -- candles burned down to nubs, flashlight rolled out of reach under the sofa -- all I'd have to do was hold on to Butch. My little blind dog knew exactly where he was.
It made me feel good for him to have the advantage over us for a change, even if he didn't know it.
(First published at Velvet Sacks on August 9, 2006.)