Fear Factor

We're having one hell of a spring storm this morning: thunder, lightning, pouring rain--even a little hail now and then. My little dog Cassie is huddled in bed beside me, panting and shaking. Her heart is beating like a munchkin's jackhammer breaking up the Yellow Brick Road after Dorothy returned to Kansas.

For humans, the chances of being struck by lightning are 1 in 280,000, according to the National Lightning Safety Institute (who knew?). For dogs, I'm guessing it's even less. And yet, she's miserable every time a storm blows up, which happens approximately every day and a half from March to October here in the mid-est of the MidWest.

How much of my own fear is just as pointless? Again, this is just a guess, but I'm thinking nearly all of it.

It's a good thing if fear keeps you out from under trees during a storm. Sure: Put down the aluminum bat. Set the golf umbrellas aside. Refuse to carry metal extension ladders upright across open spaces. But after you've covered common sense, there is exactly squat you can do. If a lightning bolt has your name on it, you're going to sizzle. Fretting just prolongs the pain.

I've been fretting a lot lately, but I'm going to try to stop. Check that. I'm going to stop. (Can you hear Yoda saying "Do or do not. There is no try." right now, or is it just me?)

The world is in a hell of a storm right now. We'd all be smart to put down any big metal objects we're carrying but after that, we might as well go out and dance in the rain. We may get fried, but it's better to go out having fun than huddled under a musty old towel in the back corner of a messy walk-in closet with a frightened little doggie who doesn't know better.