By Bea vonTobel
Last night, or rather this morning, thunder and lightning started through the area, reminding me of summers growing up in Ohio.
We had house guests, long-time family friends, who had come for their now-annual visit.
When the boomers started around 1am, one cat took refuge next to me on the bed; our dog appeared to be sleeping peacefully at the foot. The two teenagers were sleeping on inflatable mattresses in a guest room.
Around 2am, the storm passed over us in earnest. We had a knock at our bedroom door, and Andrew advised us that a strange dog had come into the room and crawled up on his chest.
It was panting, shaking, and obviously frightened of the meteorological events underway, and soon took refuge in the bathtub, where Andrew added a bowl of water.
This was a dog who knew about dog doors, and who had used ours to gain entrance to the house and headed directly to someone who would befriend him.
Because it had no identification, and we heard no one out and about calling a dog’s name, and because calling anyone at 2am is generally not welcome, we called the only number that always answers: SJC dispatch.
A deputy came to take the dog to the shelter, our dog finished the night on the bed while the storm backtracked and repeated the show. The cats had found other shelter.
When morning dawned, a run to the hardware for parts started a conversation with a worker whose dog had gone missing from the neighborhood we both live in. Turned out it was their dog who had visited us. The good news about its location was shared, and hopefully by now the dog has been reunited with its owner.
Andrew, upon finally waking up around noon, got a phone call from an island resident who had already heard about his nighttime visitor. It proves once again that gossip travels faster than the speed of light on Orcas.