I Guess Spring Is Here: It Arrived At 0340 Sunday Morning With A Set Of Sharp Toenails.

Nothing says SPRING quite like a gentle, nocturnal thunderstorm. That first rumble of thunder is followed by a very tense Shetland Sheep Dog (*Sheltie*) named Stormy (rather inappropriately named, I might add) trying to claw me to death in an attempt to warn me that the universe is doomed.

Springing Spring one thunderstorm at a time.

Springing Spring one thunderstorm at a time.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits! Oh yeah – grab a copy of Assault on Saint Agnes if you’re of a mind.

I even got up and looked for The Silver Surfer trying to warn us, Lex Luthor with a chunk of Kryptonite, and the Joker. No sign of any of them. But that was of no comfort to Stormy.

No. None. She has a pattern. First a warning. Then she lets me doze off. There’s another warning right after I nod off. This is followed shortly by my pulling her up on the bed, looping an arm over her to prevent escape, and nodding off again.

She views my sleeping as a reason to escape. She jumps down, runs to the doorway to check for Godzilla, and then comes back to claw me some more. I would like to note, for the record, that not one time has Godzilla successfully attacked this little dog when I’ve had my arm around her. Just saying.

This presents a conundrum. Most of the time I sleep through the first few rumbles. She doesn’t. If I actually cared what the weather forecast portended, I’d make sure she got a yummy Benadryl snackie before we went to bed. I, however, grew up in the great state of Minnesota where the weather forecast is so useless that the on-air personalities regularly get caught in sudden showers without an umbrella or a rain coat. The legendary Halloween blizzard of 1991 was “going to wrap up in the next few hours” when I tuned in to the evening news. I got home from driving my plow about 6 days later. Yeah. And they claim they can predict global warming.

No, I prefer to see what God dishes out at His whim. Stormy is not so fond of deities taking her delicate nervous system for granted. Drugs, clearly, are the answer. She doesn’t freak out. I sleep. She doesn’t have a stuffy nose from allergies. Win-Win.

It will rain again tonight. Guess who’s getting a little pink pill wrapped up in yummy meat-flavored goop?

Oh, just in case you were curious: the book is doing very well. Your purchases are appreciated, your reviews are desired. Thank you!

********* ********** *********** ***********

 

Assault on Saint Agnes is now available. Just click this link to find all the options! (I recommend the autographed copy. It’s cheaper than from the big stores, I scribble in it, and you get it mailed within 5 days. We all win.

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew.” Those few words, and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.

Please follow and like us:
Pin Share

Comments are closed.