The water, it won't stop falling from the sky.

The storm banks keep moving through. When there are breaks, there are horses to walk, poor things much worse off cooped up in their boxes, their only break in the monotony, dreary walks around and around the road throughout the property. The dogs make due. There's always something for them, they don't much care if it's rain or wind or sun.


I stood out in the middle of the field, waiting for dark to hit and waiting to see how long it took the black storm cloud to move on top of us. I stood out there, not moving at all, facing in to the wind. Blew hard enough to keep me propped up, and so loud, moving by my ears. No one else out there. Generator drones and rattles from a shed out by the buildings. The Who song Teenage Wasteland swells up all operatic in my brain. Sometimes it's creepy, when you get a free soundtrack you didn't even ask for.


The dogs stayed occupied, digging through the underbrush, in the soft dirt. Frantic for something that was just beneath the surface. I let them dig so long, trying to see if they caught whatever it was tunneling away from them before the black cloud hit on top of us. Worst thing that would happen, we get really wet. Worst thing that would happen, the one inch diameter hails the lady on the radio told us about pelts our skin. Worst thing that would happen, was a lightning cloud like the ones in the morning, would appear and strike me dead.


The cloud, it's winning, and I turn my back to the wind and slog through what is now a slough, boots to my knees, sometimes slipping. Call in the dogs and they need to leave whatever it was they have now gone feral for, digging as if posessed, each in their hole. Sometimes they swap.


It's Gustavo and Otterpop who whistle in right away, and when I get through the field, out to the path, I turn into the wind again, and can barely see Ruby out there, a pouncing little speck. She has gone to heaven. I don't know if she can hear me through the wind. I doubt it. I wave my arm, turn my back, and keep walking up to the road. A minute later, she's alongside again, with a spark in that bad cloudy eye. I gather them all up, just as the first heavy drops start to fall from the sky.