When it’s raining like this, I’m glad we live on a boat. At least we don’t have to worry about the water coming in over the front step or blocked drains.
For Maggie though, it’s a different matter.
She tolerates thunder but is far from happy, but in recent years, she’s become unsettled during heavy rain, no matter how short-lived, and it’s a concern how to reassure her.
Always a tactile dog, closeness is the key, but of course we have to draw the line somewhere as there is close and restrictive. Sometimes it can be impossible to move as she tries to occupy exactly the same space as us.
As the rain pummels down with a vengeance outside, the wind blowing it hard against us, she is quivering alongside me, gradually inching her way up along the bench to rest her head on my lap, upon which lies my keyboard.
I have moved slightly to give her more room, as she curls up in the smallest of spaces between me and the boat’s side.
Every so often, I reach out my left hand to stroke her head, softly talking to her as I smooth the silky fur and watch as her eyes close in a trembling body.
Resuming my writing, she visibly relaxes and a hind leg now lies parallel with her nose.
No longer in such a tight ball, her breathing becomes more regular, but I know she’s not asleep. She’s listening and waiting for the rain to ease or stop.
Her rump is touching my hip, and with the dolphin cushion supporting her shoulder, she has now turned into a pure bliss position and the shivering has subsided.