Mostly True Memoirs
Yesterday was the Storm of the Century.
It had been hyped in the news all week.
It looked like the brunt of the storm was going to hit to the east of us.
Sure enough, by the end of the day, all we had gotten was some drizzle.
The Grown Son decided to take the dog for a walk before dinner.
While they were out, the Storm of the Century screamed alive with gusto.
Wind, thunder, lightening and an absolute deluge of rain blasted down all at once.
“Are they still out there?” The Husband asked me, shouting over the storm.
“Yep.” I hollered back.
He drove out to rescue them, and eventually returned home with everyone soaking wet.
Even The Husband, who was driving, was soaking wet.
I’m not sure how that happened.
The dog was freaked out.
She huddled in a towel, shivering, on my lap.
She’s an old girl, and not so enthusiastic about exercise on a good day.
We may never get her back on a walk again.
This morning we even had a bit of snow.
Again, the dog was not amused.
I think we have entered a new phase of Cranky Old Dog.
Thanks to the Storm of the Century.