It stormed last night. Thunder. Lightning. Wind. Rain.

Beaumont doesn’t like thunder and lightning. Nor wind. They scare him.

I awoke at around 4am to the sound of him standing over me on the bed, panting noisily.

Me:  Beau. What is it?

Beau:  Huff. Huff. Huff.

Me:  Go back to sleep.

Beau:   Huff. Huff. Huff.

Me:  Oh. It’s the lightning and thunder.

Beau:  Huff. Huff. Huff.

Me:  C’mon. You’re already up on the bed, just curl up and go to sleep.

Beau: (placing his wet nose on my cheek) I’m scared.

Me:  It’s just a storm Beau. It will pass.

Beau:  That’s a stupid saying when you’re in the middle of it.

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