March 21, 2019

White Dog had just jumped up on the sofa and the rest of the White Dog Army were already in dinner dining spots when light phosphored through the windows and a nanosecond later the splintering "CRACK!" was heard.

"Where did THAT come from??" Steve said as he hurried past stunned looks and restlessly shifting pups to draw blinds and put on music. The timing of this storm was just wrong.

Several of the White Dog Army are terrified of storms; none likes them. This disruption to routine caused a moment of panic.

From her spot by the door (she prefers dinner on the sun porch) Bailey nearly leapt into my lap. 

Roman dove for his security spot and huddled deep in the back

White Dog dover for cover

Only Zsofia and Tizenegy kept focused on the clock...and the fact it WAS dinner time

Fortunately, Steve's quick action, the distraction of the music, and the smells from the kitchen redirected the reticent to the comfort of full dinner bowls. By the time bowls were licked clean and cross inspected, the storm's fury had past...thankfully in time for post din-din naps.