Overnight a huge storm . Memorable as much for its duration as for its intensity . Three hours of solid , unrelenting rain , hurling itself at the shutterless windows . This morning trees down , the pool house under water , carpets in the downstairs hallway drenched , gutters wrenched off the roof and power intermittent . ' The font ' busy checking the damage and making running repairs . In the midst of this nighttime fury the family fellow decides on a pit stop . He stands at the front door listening to the angry rain pounding against the courtyard gravel , the thunder echoing and re-echoing off the mountains ; sensing rather than seeing the lightning arcing high overhead. That almost human state of indecision halfway between necessity and fear .
In the library , waiting with a flashlight and a towel to rub him dry , I come across a well known but much misquoted and misformatted line . A smile inducing poem that could have been written for this blind , totally trusting , once imperturbable dog . " When you walk to the edge of all the light you know and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen : There will be something solid for you to stand upon, or , you will be taught how to fly " .
Pit stop over , fear conquered , he wanders back inside and joins me by the sofa . A rugby playing PON attitude that says " It's not as bad out there as you might think ". The storm rages on . He gets a biscuit then falls blissfully , and unconcernedly, asleep . I chuckle .