the hair stands up on his haunches;
he rises up from the floor, his back arching and stiff,
his hind legs stretching behind him, his nose pointing up
as we innocently continue reading our novels,
oblivious, perfectly content in the quiet of
our evening, our comfortable companionship.
The lamp flickers, the living room is flooded
in the electric flash of evening lightning
followed by the crash of thunder;
he jumps up, barking wildly to hush the storm.
his attempts to quiet the storm have succeeded
once again, he settles back onto the rug, we
pick up our books returning to our comfortable
companionship on this summer evening.