The weather has finally turned chilly here in North Texas. But it wasn’t that many weeks (days?) ago that the temps were still quite toasty. Here’s a little story I wrote about one of those days.

All Safe Inside

The air around us is suffocatingly hot, close, and still. A weak light wobbles in my hand. Smells of doggie breath, spit, and sweat assail my nose. Three of my four charges take turns panting and barking. The fourth snarls and tries to rip apart the small dog bed on the floor. Beyond our confined space, all noises are muffled and faint. I feel my heart beating in my sore teeth. And then a text lands on my phone.

EARLIER THAT DAY…

“Go potty!” I said, opening the door to let my four fur grandbabies into the backyard. Hazel, the senior boxer, immediately lay down in a patch of sun. Rubble, Remi, and Reign‒the three miniature pinschers‒sprinted away to the far corners of the fenced area.

After watering thirsty plants, I sat on a lawn chair, thankful for the beautiful day. The sky was deep blue, with a few cottony white tufts. A gentle breeze cooled my skin. I heard a lawnmower next door, and soon, the smell of newly mown grass wafted over the fence. One of the min pins zoomed past. Dog sitting for that pack kept me on my toes and made the week fly by.

“Go potty,” I reminded the dogs, noting they were more interested in napping or chasing toads, butterflies, and bunnies. Unexpectedly, I heard faint chirps and looked above at the improbably small barn swallow nest. The mud structure was secured under a corner of the back porch overhang. An adult bird swooped in for feeding time. Popping above the edge of the nest were three tiny bird heads, their beaks opened and waiting. Quite a show.

With closed eyes, I listened to the relaxing sounds of the pool’s fountain. I hadn’t brought my suit but considered coming back out later to cool my feet in the water while I read. My smile soon turned into a frown when I felt a slight twinge in my teeth. A recent visit to the dentist had provided no resolution, except for another appointment scheduled for several weeks later.

Just then, I got a call from my vacationing daughter. She asked about the doggies and mentioned seeing that severe weather was expected in the area that night. I know Texas storms can be extreme. I reassured her that I wasn’t worried and would remain weather-aware. I urged the dogs back indoors, promising treats for those who obeyed. Rubble was often the holdout, spending extra time moseying around the perimeter of the yard for anything he missed on his initial patrol of the area.

The rest of the day got away from me, between the dogs and the editing work that always accompanied me on the laptop. Before I knew it, the clock said it was past time for the dogs’ dinner, followed by their last potty break. When I opened the door, I realized the weather had turned. The temperature had dropped, and a strong wind blew. In the sky, angry dark clouds raced across the face of the moon. The baby birds were quiet for the night, and I was happy for the protection they had within their nest. I encouraged the puppy potty party of four to go out and do their business quickly.

“Inside!” I told the dogs as soon as they’d gone potty, promising them treats if they quickly followed my command.

Back in the house, I remembered the blue betta swimming lazily in its fishbowl and sprinkled a few food pellets into the water. I closed the blinds and got ready for bed. Rain spattered the windows. Before long, Hazel lounged on her large dog bed, and the three min pins were up on the bed with me and my book. Suddenly, the shrill blare of weather warning sirens sounded!

Like in my nearby town, that alert meant a tornado or large hail with high, destructive winds. I would take no chances and felt a strong responsibility for my daughter’s dogs. Grabbing my phone, flashlight, and a handful of dog treats, “Come! Treat!” I announced. We headed for the storm shelter, solidly set in the hot garage. Of course, Rubble, being Rubble, needed to make several passes inside the garage before he joined the others in the small shelter. I turned on the flashlight, closed the door, and sat on a low stool. That’s when all heck broke loose. No, not weatherwise. In fact, I could barely hear the wind and the faint pelting of hail. The problem was with the dogs!

As the confused canines tried to make sense of their surroundings, I already wondered how long we’d need to stay in that sweaty torture chamber. Remi and Reign nipped at each other, trying to run around in the small space. Hazel barked loudly, sending her odiferous breath directly into my face. And a snarling Rubble took over the small pet bed on the floor‒not to lie down but to try and rip it apart with his teeth. Time stood still.

RIGHT NOW…

My phone buzzes with a timely text from my daughter. “Just checked the radar for your area! Are you okay?” I assure her we are ALL safe in the storm shelter (except the fish…oops!). “There’s a fan in there,” she adds.

I shine my flashlight into the dark corners, and there it is, right next to me. My savior. I turn on the fan and pick up Rubble. He sits on my lap, whiskers facing into the surprisingly cool breeze. Rubble is suddenly quiet and content. The other three follow his lead, lie down, and go silent. I check my phone for a weather update. My toothache recedes from a steady throb to an occasional twinge.

Tomorrow, the sun will return, and I will start my second day of dog sitting. I can do this!