Lightning, thunder, and one freaked-out dog doesn’t bode well, especially when said dog can open doors from the inside. That means that locking Shay in the interior bathroom (no windows) with his bed and a chew toy is of no use although last night I did discover how he opens doors (not with his mouth as I expected, but with his paws, one on each side of the handle).
What this translated into was getting up from bed repeatedly, eventually putting a big chair against the bed to block this 90-pound scaredy-cat hound from climbing up and pacing back and forth across our heads. I also had to hold his collar as he stood on his bed (scooted close to our bed), until he finally calmed down enough to curl up and go to sleep, assured that my hand was less than a foot away.
So far, so good, I thought as I drifted off, but that was before the other dog freaked out because the chair, which she lies to hide behind when lightning strikes, was moved. Her way of soothing herself included pacing back and forth (clickity-click) and throwing down her heavy bone in the wooden floor repeatedly. It took a long time for her to find a new place to hide, behind Shay, and go to sleep.
I drifted off again, only to be awoken by Miyako the kitty who suddenly started doing the Daytona 500, including pit stops to leap on my chest. I worried Miyako would wake up the dogs, who sleep tenuously, like babies, in this kind of weather.
Finally, finally, finally, the kitty collapsed on my arm, and I went back to sleep. For who-knows-how-long because very soon Ken jumped up screaming. A mouse had scurried across his forehead, and just as he reached up to see what it was, the kitty pounced on the mouse and scratched Ken’s finger.
A mouse in bed means all lights on and all blankets and sheets shaken vigorously (not that we’ve had mice in bed, at least that I know of, before). By then we were so awake we started swapping stories of spotting mice lately, Ken in the glove compartment of his car, and me in a leftover cup of coffee in my car (the poor rodent drowned in caffeine, so he must have been awake enough to be keenly witness the end of his days).
This morning, all the animals sleep deeply (including, I’m sure, hidden mice), but I resist the urge to poke them with sticks. Besides, they need to rest up for tonight’s show.