running and rain

Groaning sky and intermittent flashes of light. I wasn't planning on taking it that seriously. After all, the whole thing went the color of death earlier, then cleared up.

It's Friday night, espresso bender time. Been riding out the high by working around the house, cleaning up, diving into overdue chores.

The idea was to go for a run after. Nighttime's the best time to do that, with everyone locked away, sleeping, or communing with the images on screens of one kind or another. Or out somewhere. But mostly around here they're inside. Tucked away.

So I like running then. Now. Darkness edging out the interruptions of daylight, saying, we'll fuss with that tomorrow.

But then, Mateo, the keen canine, who views storms as trials of absolute terror, started on his heavy panting. Like, fanatic panting. Anarchy of hot breath and slobber. Lungs going like a Zydeco accordion squeezed fast as a nightmare.

And now I know it's probably best to trust what Mother Nature was tossing hints around. That shit's about to go down.

But I trust my k9 more than any mother. His intuition is an ass-kicker. He's always onto something real, breathlessly.

Come on, rain. We're ready.