Last Thursday night / Friday morning, the worst thunderstorm I've ever experienced here in the Northwest came roaring through. Since my first Golden "Sunny" in 1986 (Cosmo 1991, Devo 1997, Lady 2008 and now Easton 2011) none of the dog gave a rip about: Thunder, Lightning or even Coyotes howling right outside our door -- except Easton.
![]() |
Strike a pose. |
Easton and the boomers: Imagine a large herd of prehistoric Mastodons stampeding full speed from the outside towards your backyard fence. That is what Easton imagines when he hears thunder. He blasts through his doggy door and braces, growls and barks, posturing what can only be described as an "I'm going to tear you apart when you come over that fence" defense of his home. Make no mistake, he is not afraid. He shifts to full blown guard dog mode, reaching deep down into his Golden heart for his inner-Rottweiler.
![]() |
With his always present over-sized tennis ball A gift from his Aunt Virginia |
It is my job to prevent him from keeping our house and the neighborhood awake all night. So I try to distract him, play ball, pet him, reassure him that the Third Reich was defeated in 1945 and is NOT invading our back yard. When I just can't stay awake anymore, I slip his eight foot leather leash on my wrist and fall asleep on the living room couch, hoping he'll do the same. Only when the storm passes will he settle down. It eventually does around 3AM. Its time to get some sleep. There are no more boomers Bud.
![]() |
Indoor, no flash, just natural light from the window |