1. Some Facts
From the day we adopted him, Charlie has been afraid of riding in the car. Horribly afraid. Whereas Izzy lives for jumping into the car, as did Mr. Guinness, when we go somewhere with Charlie, his face is grim and he begins to shake. And we discovered today that the same applies to thunderstorms.
Now, Charlie isn’t the first dog to dislike thunder. Indeed, Mr. Guinness was the template from which canine dislike of storms is derived, although now that I stop to think about it, his reaction was one of challenge rather than fear. Charlie, on the other hand, seems to be terribly afraid of thunder.
In spite of the fact that thunder brings cool air blowing in the front door and refreshing rain for the tomatoes, at the slightest hint of a storm (black skies in the west and a distant rumbling), we discovered today that Charlie comes up to us for protection, plainly asking for help from the approaching danger, shaking just as he does when we go out in the car.
2. A Theory
Charlie, you should know, is ten years old. We intentionally adopted a senior dog because they are hard to adopt out and … because honestly, we didn’t want a puppy. As we were talking to another senior rescue dog who was wigglingly happy, wagging her tail and giving us many kisses, Charlie sat regally in the lap of his foster mother gazing into the distance, periodically blinking his eyes. He had a meditative look to him. I was hooked.
But why would a gentle, laid-back, ten year old dog need to be adopted? What circumstances led him to be out in the wild, emaciated and alone? What happened to this wonderful zen-dog that he needed to be rescued?
My theory is this.
Once upon a time, Charlie must have been in a wonderful home. He lived with people he loved and who loved him back. They treated him well, because there is no sign of the kind of fretful timidness in him that you can see in dogs that have been abused. He had a happy life and lived many years in that happy home.
But something happened. I don’t know what it was, but my guess is that it ended with a long car drive out into the countryside, with the opening of the car door, and with the car racing off, leaving Charlie standing on the side of the road wondering what just happened, with a fear of cars newly burned into his psyche forever.
And so there he was, far from home, alone, in the countryside. And my guess is that he was alone that way for a very long time. There must have been storms, and my guess is that his trembling this morning with the approaching thunder and lightening is not a reflection of his fear of the weather but rather a flashback to that horrible time when he was all alone, abandoned by his family, cold, hungry.
I would shake, too.
But Charlie is once again a happy dog. Now that the storm has passed, his shaking has stopped, his pensive gaze has returned, and the luminosity of his zen is glowing out from under the desk where he is very contentedly curled up.