A very scary thunderstorm swept through late last night. Lightening kept flashing across the sky as the thunder rolled, sounding like a giant freight train, like the one that passes our little pasture, only much, much louder. Once the lightening struck so close, it sounded like a big bomb had gone off only a few feet away. Ziggy and I huddled together in the corner of the pasture where the yaupon bushes and the trees grow close together offering us a pretty good shelter from the driving rain. Not that we didn’t get wet, mind you, but it was better than standing out in the open.

In the morning, I heard a very familiar whistle. It was my mistress calling us! Ziggy and I usually don’t see her until she comes home from work in the late afternoon, but she was calling for us now. We trotted up to the gate and there she was with a flake of alfalfa hay for each of us. She ran her hands all over our bodies, making sure we had come to no harm during the thunderstorm. Then from her coat pocket she withdrew a couple of those yummy apple treats I love so much. I put my head on her shoulder to show my appreciation while she rubbed my ears. That lasted all of two minutes: the alfalfa was calling.