White Dog stormed out of the room, feeling the same frustration and anger I was. Sometimes my girl is too much like her momma. Quinn adjusted himself so his head was snuggled on my foot and breathed deeply. In contrast, he was calm and unfazed.
"Remember the post you came in here to write," he gently woofed. "It didn't have fury. It was gentle and refreshing."
"That was before Blogger started acting up!" I grunted. "It keeps eating our entry. Plus it is missing characters that I KNOW I typed...like tHe, not te. I have had to rewrite it three times now. At least this last time I saved it as a Word document! AND you cannt see our beautiful new header...the photos, all gone! Can't get them back!!!"
"Write the post about the rain. It will help you feel better." he said and stretched out to nap.
Blessedly, monsoon season has hit a bit early this year. Where we live, the late summer brings a afternoon buildup of thunderheads and rain. It rains for a hour or two (on lucky days), breaks the heat, then clears up in time for nightfall.
The White Dog Army does not like thunder so when it began rumbling in the distance every pup pulled in closer together forming a tighter circle to include the entire pack (including me). We draw security from each other and as long as the sky noises remain "away," the WDA is able to weather the storm. Today, far off in the mountains, we could hear the thunder booming but to us it was a musical accent to the slow darkening of the living room as heavy-bellied clouds crushed together blocking the scorching sun. We left the lights off and enjoyed the strangely tinted greyness.
It seemed like our world had begun to hold its breath, all became still and respectfully quiet. The WDA shifted to be touching.
The first raindrops escaped the clouds noisily plopping and pinging on the windows and swamp cooler. As the drops became sheets things once again became silent. It was a gentle constant rain that we all drank in with our eyes. We were together; we were safe; all was right in the world.
One of the most amazing aspects of life in the desert is the immediacy to stimuli within the environment. Rain a hundred miles away charges down our mountains gathering such force that it carves the rock and moves boulders onto the roads. Today wasn't that kind of response it was immediately noticeable.
This was a beautiful poetic hour or so of replenishment, the parched ground deliriously lapping up the water and turning brighter, stronger, more vital as a thanks.
The WDA sighed and put heads on paws to rest; White Dog jumped up into my arms like she has a million times since she was a pup. She and I pressed together and allowed ourselves to be filled with peace.