Bad weather has rolled in this morning, and Chunk is beside himself with anxiety. He wants to go out, but then he wants to come in. The growl of thunder in the east sends fear into his cowardly heart. He sits on my couch, his black eyes darting around the room to ascertain a safe area to hide from the brashness of the storm. A soft rain hits the tin on my roof, the ding, ding, ding, is music to my ears. Thunder continues to growl, and I remember what my father told me as a young boy. “Thunder is God rearranging His furniture. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
Chunk would disagree with my dad this morning.
Still, the thunder continues to shake my cabin. Chunk has decided he will shove his head under my camouflage blanket and one of the numerous pillows littering the couch. Even hidden, you can make out the soft ears standing behind the pillow. His alertness is to be admired. If something should make a noise, Chunk will be the first to know.
In this storm, Chunk wants the comfort of his buddy. A shoulder to lean on, a person to confide in, or just the acknowledgement that he isn’t alone in the storm. It is no different for us “human” animals. In our storms, we seek the comfort of a friend. I suppose Chunk is here to teach me to be more human. To be a friend, who will stand with those in storms. Or perhaps, he is to teach me to not allow fear to paralyze me from taking a risk. Either way, my little buddy is snoozing on the couch now, the storm is all but forgotten.
Until next time,
18 February 2020