But the other night, we had just that.
I do love a good storm, as long as I'm inside and can listen to the rain pound on the skylights in my office. (It makes for an awesome writing soundtrack.)
My dog, Rosie, on the other hand, is not a fan.
Long before a storm starts, she is pacing and panting. She's better at predicting a bad storm than most weather forecasters I know.
Let's just say Winn-Dixie has nothing on her.
She paces. She races. She is unsettled and inconsolable. She climbs all over me. All over the sofa. All over my other dog, Toby, who can't even hear the storm because he is deaf.
Rosie asking to get up on my lap - where she will stay for about 2 seconds before hopping back down.
I pet her, rub her ears, talk calmly to her.
Even when she finally makes her way onto my lap, she won't settle down. Her claws grip into my thighs. Her body shakes.
And this is all before the first drop of rain even hits the ground.