It was a dark and stormy night

If you live in a part of the country where severe thunderstorms are not a part of your weather reality, you haven’t had the joy of being woken up in the middle of the night by a storm phobic dog who is sure every crack of thunder spells impending doom. In my pack of three, Connor is oblivious and sleeps through everything; Jamie is the weather watcher who can alert to dropping barometric pressure two states away, and Phoenix, well, Phoenix thinks its very exciting for the humans to be awake at 2 a.m., watching live color radar on TV. And the Farmer? He doesn’t believe anything the weather forecasters say although he constantly asks me (the journalism and English major) what the weather is going to do.

ACT I
1 a.m., dogs and humans are sleeping. Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance.

Jamie: Poke. Poke-poke. POKE-POKE-POKE!

Me (waking up): Get your nose out of my armpit.

Jamie: Storm coming. We should go to the basement.

Me: It’s thundering 40 miles away. We are not going to the basement.

Jamie: You’ll be sorry.

Me: Go to sleep.

Phoenix: What’s up? Party?

Me: No party. Go to sleep.

Jamie: We should go to the basement.

Phoenix: I’m not going down there. Scary.

Me: No party. No basement. Go. To. Sleep.

Jamie (snort): Fine. Nobody listens to me.

Phoenix: She’s crabby.

ACT II
1:45 a.m. Thunder is closer now. Wind is whipping bedroom curtains.

Jamie: Poke. Poke-poke. Oh to h*ll with it. (Leaps on bed.)

Me: Oooph! Get off my stomach!

Jamie: Storm coming. We should go to the basement.

Me (noticing curtains are blowing straight out): OK, it’s going to storm. But we don’t need to go to the basement. Get off my stomach. I want to shut the windows.

Jamie: Can’t move. Scared.

Farmer: Why is the bed vibrating?

Me (rolling eyes): Jamie says its going to storm. (Shoves 60 pounds of vibrating Tervuren off stomach and shuts windows.)

Farmer: It’s not going to storm. ZZZZZZZZZ

Jamie: Woe is me. I’m going to die.

Me: You are not going to die. You’re rocking the bed. Go lie down.

Phoenix: Party now?

Me: NO PARTY. Go lie down and go to sleep.

Jamie and Phoenix: She’s really crabby.

ACT III

2 a.m. Rain slams into the house, thunder rolls and lightning crashes, illuminating the bedroom in a wash of silver. Outside, wind is howling and tree branches are creaking. Something that might have been an agility jump goes flying by the window.

Jamie (leaping onto the bed): Basement! Now! Battle stations! Full speed ahead! Man the lifeboats!

Me: OUCH! You are a freaking nutcase. Get off my head!

Phoenix (leaping onto bed): It IS a party! I knew it!

Farmer (shoving tails out of his face): %$#?* dogs.

Me (flipping on TV): Since we’re all awake anyway . . .

TV meteorologist: . . . go to your safe place NOW. Repeating, a tornado warning has been issued for -

Jamie: He said go to the basement! LISTEN TO HIM!

Me: That’s for Poweshiek County. We don’t live in Poweshiek County.

Jamie: Close enough!

Phoenix: I am NOT going in that basement and you can’t make me.

From the kitchen: assorted bizzare electronic noises.

Farmer: Now what!

Me: That’s my all-hazards weather radio going off. A tornado warning has been issued for Iowa County.

Jamie (crawling onto the Farmer’s chest): I told you! Now will you listen to me?

Farmer: GET OFF OF ME you big hot hairy panting vibrating dog!

Phoenix (bouncing around on the bed): Party-party-party-party!

Me: Look at that big red blob on radar. Cool.

Farmer: I can’t see it. Get your dog off my face.

Me (grabbing Phoenix): Uh-oh. That blob is headed right for us. Maybe we should go to the basement.

Farmer: You’re the storm spotter.

Me: I can’t spot anything in the dark.

The story ends here because in the 18 years we’ve been married, the Farmer and I have never actually gone to the basement. There have been two times we’ve come very close. Jamie, on the other hand, sends himself to the basement on a regular basis during severe weather season. If the weather gets a bit twitchy, I leave the basement door open and he goes down on his own. This seems to bring him some comfort. Phoenix will not follow him. And Connor usually sleeps through the whole thing.