A Storm in a Teacup



We have started storm season here in Queensland.  Normally I enjoy storms - the drama of the thunder and lighting, as well as the sound of rain playing a symphony on the roof.  Unfortunately, I have some pets that dislike storms, and one that intensely dislikes storms, and this now makes storms unpleasant for everyone.

Young and unafraid

A young Chamois used to ignore the rumbles in the sky, looking nonchalant and brave as the rain pelted down and the Gods rattled the sky.  Not any more.  Now the panic sets in and she will do pretty much anything to find a safe place to wait it out.  She can also sense the storm coming at least an hour before we know about it, and starts annoying us while the sky is still blue.  We call it our early storm warning system.
If we are home, she becomes a professional shadow, hanging out with us wherever we are.  Not just beside us, usually under our feet - she would get into our skin if we would let her.  Her brows furrow in worry and fear, she stares at us, panting, with droplets of drool falling soundlessly onto my freshly washed floors.  Not only is this a little bit disgusting, it is quite dangerous if you happen to skid on the slippery saliva.  Yuck.  Getting mad at her and shooing her away accomplishes nothing and just increases her stress levels.

In our quest to make things better for her, we have invested in a Thundershirt (http://www.thundershirt.com.au/) and after several attempts to get the right size, we have one.  To be honest, it only makes a little bit of difference to her anxiety levels, hugging her tightly as she quivers on the floor, but any little bit of help we can get, we'll take.  We have to be home to put the shirt on her though as I do not like leaving it on her on a hot and humid day in case she overheats.

Hanging out in the corner sporting her
fashionable Thundershirt.

We have spoken to the vet about her storm phobia, and they said that the best thing that can happen is that she goes deaf.  Well, that's great news, isn't it?  They have also prescribed a drug that is basically Xanax, but it takes 20 minutes to kick in (and again, I need to be home, not at work).  To be truthful, it works pretty well and she gets quite a goofy look on her face.  She's too young to remember Fast Times at Ridgemont High or Cheech and Chong, but I reckon she'd fit right in. 

If Chamois was human....

Heaven forbid if we are at work and an unexpected storm looms in on the horizon, which is usually what happens. 

Our first sign that Chamois had an issue with storms was when we got home from work and discovered her missing.  It seems that despite the fence being topped with barbed wire, she can still clear it and head for the hills - literally.  Once the farmer behind us told us that he saw her go over the fence and just run through his paddocks up towards the hills, past the cows, ponies, goats and alpacas that she usually loves to bark at.  Thankfully she came home on her own eventually, looking very dirty and sorry for herself.

She no longer runs away, which is a blessing, probably due to the fact that titanium parts now encased in her knee have ended her jumping days. The intense fear is still there though, and definitely worse than before.

One day I came home from work and there was no sign of either dog.  I wasn't sure if part of the fence had been knocked down or if they had simply escaped, but I frantically searched for them, running from the car to the house, calling their names over and over.  I found them - inside, all cozy and safe, surprised that I had worked myself into such a state.  Chamois had found her way into the corner of our closet, shoes shoved aside to wriggle into the smallest corner that she could. 

Unfortunately our back patio security screen door wasn't unscathed. That sucker had been ripped out of it's tracks and lay on the ground like Shawn's discarded underwear - a little bit sad and definitely not where it belonged.  It had been locked too, but she must have pawed and pawed at it until the lock pulled apart and the lip of the frame was bent back enough for it to come loose.  Judging by the muddy paw marks all over the locked glass door, she just kept going at it until that lock jiggled undone.  Fortunately she didn't hurt herself, but it took a bit of manoeuvring to get the screen door back in place.

Another time we came home during a storm and both dogs were still outside.  Chamois hadn't managed to get the door open this time as it must fit differently since it's last 'adjustment'.  It was still locked, but the bottom half of the security screen door was bent up and the door shape resembled a banana.  It took more than a bit of manoeuvring to get that door back to where it should be. 

Miraculously, she didn't hurt herself that time either.

So our outside doors have taken a battering, and one time she couldn't slide the closet door open and had clawed at it in desperation, ripping the wooden framing off.  We've decided not to fix anything properly while she is still with us as it is a losing battle.  We just accept that she will break into the house during storms and live with the consequences.

The other animals don't appear to be as affected, although as Clawde gets older, I notice that if it's a particularly loud storm, he wants to be close.  He also has an uncanny ability to know that Chamois is scared, and follows her around the house, comforting her with lots of head licks and rubs.  Chamois seems to appreciate it and will accept Clawde's nursing willingly.

 

In the meantime, storm season at our house is not be enjoyed but to be endured. Uh oh, here comes another one.....

Brisbane storm season