Even if I hadn’t seen the clouds, even if I didn’t hear the rain, I’d know the weather was turning stormy. My furry barometer told me so. When Nemo hears thunder or senses a disturbance in the atmosphere, he trots over to me, puts his feet on my lap and looks beseechingly at my face. “It’s noisy,” he seems to say. “I don’t like thunder. Please make it go away.”
But, since I have no such power, I can’t quite do that. My furry little barometer is better than a meteorologist’s forecast. Storms make him so nervous and I’m sorry for him. I, however, rather enjoy them–as long as they aren’t severe.
I stepped out on the deck this morning to take a look at the clouds. Sure enough, they were gathering and a wind stirred the branches of the maple. The feeling in the air was unsettling. Uneasy, restless –this is what I felt. I’m not so furry, but, come to think of it, maybe I’m a barometer too.
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