Storm watch

 

They left me again.

Emma and Joel went to the pool with some friends. I could hear the rustling of towels and the squeak of flip-flops, and I knew what it meant: abandonment. Not forever, of course. Just a few hours. But still. They left. Without me. In the blazing heat of summer. Again.

By the time they came back, everyone smelled like sun and sweat and that weird chemical stuff they call “chlorine.” I waited by the door like a statue of patience, ears perked and nose working overtime. Joel was already whining about food before the door even shut behind them.

“There’s never anything to eat,” he muttered. Typical Joel.

Emma was dripping all over the floor in her towel, looking dazed, like she had just fought off a sea monster. She opened the fridge and stared into it like she was expecting a roast chicken to magically appear. No such luck. Just some cucumbers, old tortillas, and half a bottle of something that smelled smoky and slightly questionable.

Honestly, the human food situation was not my concern.

Something bigger was happening.

I could feel it. The pressure in the air had shifted. The sky was up to something.

That’s when I gave her the face.

My storm face.

Ears forward. Eyes wide. Alert.
It was coming.
I didn’t know what, exactly—but something.
The kind of something that makes trees whisper and humans shut windows.

I started pacing. Quietly. With purpose. I checked the back door. I checked the living room. 

Emma noticed me watching the sky. She’s not always quick, but she knows me. And I know storms. Before the clouds rumble. Before the leaves flip. Before the air gets that electric smell. I know.

I heard her sigh as Joel complained again. Something about the pool making him hungrier than usual. She was still dripping, trying to turn barbecue sauce and cucumbers into a meal. I considered offering my expertise, but I figured she was doing her best.

As for me? I stayed on storm watch. A loyal sentinel. A dense, muscular, emotionally intelligent sentinel. Not to brag or anything—but I’m kind of essential around here.

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Woof (but like, watchfully),
Peanut