|I'll take a nice, dry dirt pile over a thunderstorm any day.|
Same here. So last week, I was heading out to Lilja field when I heard the unmistakable rumble of thunder.
Dad, whose auditory system is nowhere near as fine-tuned as mine, or even most humans, detected not a thing. So I closed my ears, lowered my tail, and turned around—a good walk shortened.
Needless to say, I've been crouching in my man cave for the last couple of nights. With more thunderstorms predicted for tomorrow a.m., it looks like it might be home, sweet home for the foreseeable future—unless that storm heads offshore. Antarctica should be far enough, and then I can go back to soaking up the sun from my dirt pile.