Of storms and poetry

After yesterday's thunderstorms, the skies have cleared and a strong, fresh northwest wind is bringing cool air. I just got the fire started and soon it'll be warm for our breakfast.

Rocco doesn't like thunderstorms. He finds a place in the house, oddly, it seems, by a sink, such as the kitchen or bathroom, and stays there for the duration. No enticing of any sort, even cookies or supper, will get him to move until the storm has passed.

I recently talked about this with another dog owner. He mentioned how his new young dog went through obedience school and was trained to stay calm in noisy situations. Thunderstorms, though, are different, with the  low-frequency rumbles that can be felt long before we can even hear them. This friend said he'd put his dog in the dog's crate and, to add to the calm, would read Robert Frost's poetry to the dog. It seemed to work. When storms came, the dog now goes to his crate and waits for the poetry reading. If a storm comes at night, the dog will its master, expecting to hear Birches.

We tried this with Rocco. Of course, he's much older and his fears are deep. He didn't budge while Sandra read The Road Not Taken.

The storms, as I'd mentioned, have moved on. Rocco's already asked me once if it's time for breakfast. Not yet, but soon.