I knew something was wrong the moment the wind changed.
The sky outside the window had been sulking all day, turning darker by the hour. Iâd spent the afternoon curled on the couch, ears twitching with every creak of the house. Even my favorite squeaky duck couldnât distract me. That kind of quietâthe heavy, tense kindâalways makes my chest feel tight.
When the first boom came, it wasnât like anything Iâd heard before. It wasnât like the blender, or the vacuum monster. It was deeperâlike the whole sky barked at once.
I jumped. I mean really jumped. My paws scrambled on the hardwood as I darted under the coffee table. My tail curled tight against my belly. I didnât care how it looked. The sky was angry, and I wanted no part of it.
Then the lights flickered.
A second boom followed. The house gave a little shudder. My heart raced so fast I could feel it thumping in my ears. I let out a soft whine, not on purpose. My body did it for me.
Thatâs when I saw her.
She came into the room barefoot, in those soft pants she wears at night. Her face was gentle, eyes calmâeven as the world outside roared. She didnât say anything at first. Just knelt beside the table and reached for me with slow hands. I didnât move. I couldnât.
âI got you, Bailey,â she whispered.
She disappeared for a moment and came back with my blanketâthe warm one. The soft one that smells like naps and belly rubs. I love that blanket. She wrapped me in it and cradled my head like I was made of something fragile. She didnât pull me out. She waited, crouched down there with me, thunder and all.
The storm didnât care. It kept shouting. Loud cracks, long growls, pounding rain. But somehow, with her hand resting gently on my back, it felt less like the world ending and more like a bad dream.
Eventually, she coaxed me out. We made our way to the bedroom, one pawstep at a time. Instead of putting me in my usual spot, she moved my bed right next to hersâclose enough for my nose to touch the edge of her mattress.
She even tucked my blanket around me like I was one of those tiny humans in the TV shows.
âJust one night, storm baby,â she said softly, brushing my ear.
I curled into a ball, but sleep didnât come easy. Every time thunder rolled across the sky, my body tensed again. My eyes stayed open longer than I wanted.
But every time, sheâd reach her hand down.
Just a touch. Thatâs all it took.
At some point, I fell asleep with her fingers still resting gently on my paw.
I guess even when the sky roars, you can feel safeâif someone stays with you until the storm is gone.