The Ruby Rose Report: A Pocket Warninh

 

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I respect all my ancestors and am often visited by them in my dreams. River, the one who chose me, is my most frequent guest, and Foley, the head of the table, ensures I am treating you right. Then there is Pocket, who appeared at the cusp of summer to issue a warning.

Pocket told me that the thunderstorms were coming, they would frighten me a tremendous amount, and if I needed her, to think of her, and she would be my thunder buddy. I had heard of Pocket's fear of thunderstorms and was touched by her selfless offer.

The first bad storm we got, I was on my mom's lap, under a blanket. I heard the bangs but knew I was safe and stayed there for the duration.

Pocket came to see me that night and asked if I was scared, and I said I wasn't. She informed me something worse was on the way, what she called the Fourth of July, when the sky exploded with whistles, booms, and fire. It sounded scary and not what I was used to, having spent my first Fourth in the part of Florida where everyone sleeps an hour before Mr. Night arrives.

But it rained on the Fourth, and there were some bangers on the Fifth, but it didn't bother me. I woke up to see Pocket looking over me in my dreams: "Are you made of stone?" she asked. "Every Foley got shaken up by fireworks." I shrugged. I am a naturally quiet dog.

Then we got a string of bad storms, one worse than the other. They came during the night, with the thunder rolling like a thousand approaching stormtroopers and rain beating down on our roof, like Pukwudgeirs banging on the shingles, trying to break in. Occasionally the wind would howl like rabid werewolves approaching from the woods—the lightning flashes, lighting the house in a most unnatural color. It is while fire in the sky, striking randomly, and, if you are unlucky and your home is hit, it could burn to the ground.

I stayed under the blanker during the storms, knowing I was safe. The next night Pocket appeared in my dreams and told me it was obvious I was not scared of storms and didn't need to be carried around the house when they were happening, or held and snuggled to sleep, or get special attention just because there was a storm. Pocket told me she was proud of me.

And I started to think maybe it would be better, snuggle-wise if I was afraid.