Safe from the storm

Callie at rest (1)

I was sleeping soundly when I was awakened by the pain of claws in my left bicep.  I rolled over toward the edge of the bed where my nose was met by the big cool nose of Callie, a 25 pound all white American Eskimo dog.  As my eyes grew accustomed to my surroundings I could see the dark eyes in the white face. They were frightened and pleading.

The large bedroom was basked in the orangish color of the salt lamp we use as a night light. It gives off a warm and comforting glow which doesn't actually light the room but makes it so you can get around without tripping and falling.  Quickly I ran through my awakened-in-the-middle-of-the-night routine.  First a quick glance at the clock.  1:13 am.  Next check Pamela.

Pamela had bilateral knee replacement on December 7th and had to have one of the new knees removed and replaced with a temporary plastic joint until an infection acquired during surgery heals. She not only had the pain of surgery but of recovering from the infection, so getting sleep is very hard for her. She was sleeping peacefully. I knew that it had taken her hours.  'Dang,'  I thought to myself, 'I can't wake her up.'  I looked back at Callie, who had her front paws on the bed and waiting anxiously. "Be quiet and get down," I tried to whisper to the apprehensive dog.  She got down.

Everything in the room was normal, except for the nervous American Eskimo. The next step was getting my body moving.  You see,  I was first diagnosed with arthritis when I was thirty-two years old.  I'm now almost 70 and have had the heinous disease in just about every joint in my body for the past 38 years. I have had to sleep flat on my back with my arms at my side and not daring to cross my ankles for well over ten years just to diminish the pain sufficiently to sleep.  As you can imagine, you don't just jump up with arthritis unless you want some really serious pain. You have to coax, plead a bit, and slowly move a joint to get it to start moving.  Callie waited impatiently.

I really wanted to tell her to go back to bed and let me sleep, but Callie has never awakened me or insisted that I follow without good reason. I rolled my left leg off the side of the bed and used the patent Vance-method to lift my body to a sitting position. Well, it isn't actually patented. It's just a way that I've learned to get up where there's nothing to grab.  I put my elbow on the bed and use my forearm to leverage myself. Thankfully it is a lot harder to describe than to do. Callie watched closely as I put my feet into my slippers with her nose so close that she almost pushed them on because I wasn't moving fast enough.

"I must have left the gate closed," I thought.  I didn't think she would awaken me because the food dish was almost empty. Besides I had just checked that the evening before.  She might wake me up for water, but the most likely problem was that the gate which we use to keep the dogs out of the bedroom area when we're not home and my daughter's puppy, who lives with them in the apartment down stairs, from getting us up to play at 5:30 or 6 a.m., was closed.  If it was closed Callie could not get to either food, water or the doggy door.

As I rounded the corner from the master bedroom I could see that the gate was open. I looked down at the dog who was walking at my side looking up at me with foreboding.  "It's open Callie. What do you need?"

I checked the food and water, although I knew exactly what I was going to find, but I went through the exercise in hopes that whatever she needed would manifest itself in the act. As I moved through the house I kept a close eye on the large white animal with the pleading eyes. It was then that there was a small flash of light at the window like someone had used an old-fashioned flash bulb nearby.

That was it. I reached down. Patted the frightened dog and said "It's okay."

I wasn't angry with Callie for waking me up.  I wasn't happy but one or more of them gets me up at least twice during most nights. But now I was filled with compassion and my heart melted.  Callie is terrified of storms. I spent a few moments trying to comfort her.

My smartphone weather app showed that there was a storm front just about ready to engulf us. That, I thought, was why my arthritis hurt more than usual.  Remember how you giggled when your grandparents would tell you that they could tell when it was going to rain because their rheumatism hurt?  Believe me, it's true!  Callie is evidently sensitive to the pressure change long before there are signs of a storm.

By the time we got back to the bedroom I could hear rain softly falling on the skylight above the bed. I put a large dog bed close enough to our bed that I could easily reach down and comfort the frightened dog. Callie sat next to the bed and looked at me with her longing eyes. "You're too big to sleep up here," I said softly. "I'm sorry."  She just sat and looked.

I climbed back into bed.  Our bed is an antique bed that is slightly shorter and narrower than a standard double. We ended up making our own mattress for it.  Besides we already had the two little dogs with us. Atilla-the-Honey, a blind nine year old Yorkie, and Teddy, a tiny deaf 13 year old Pom, had not even raised their heads.  They are what is left of the G-3 - -  the three small dogs who have traveled an average of 12,000 miles a year around the country with us for the past three years, spending their summer protecting a small campground in Glacier National Park. The third member of the group, Cubby, passed away this past Thanksgiving. All three slept with us in the bed in Willy, our vintage 16 foot camper trailer, which is smaller than this bed.  Callie is actually my oldest granddaughter's dog. When she's not with us she lives with my daughter and their puppy.  But now she sat and looked at me. She just sat.

I dangled my arm over the side of the bed as an offering of comfort. Callie continued to just sit and look. The fear and pleading in her eyes was more than I could bear. I could sense her body shaking violently. As the storm arrived and light began to flash at all windows I got up, picked up the shaking, squirming dog, and laid her down next to me. She snuggled close and in short while the trembling began to subside.

What the heck.  Worst case scenario - I would have to lay on my side and not get much sleep. The important thing was that everyone was together and safe from the storm.


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(1)  This is the best picture I have of Callie.  She is like one of those people who believe that you steal their spirit if you take their picture. She has a second sense that tells her that a camera is in the room.

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