Calming Penny Lane

It has been raining a lot tonight and, although it started out as a gentle and happy rain, it has since escalated into tremors and booms. It is the kind of storm that haunts the background of dramatic movies, the kind that induces childhood fears and, apparently, the kind that terrifies my dog.

Penny Lane is nearly 8 and, like many dogs, has a distinct fear of rainstorms. After half an hour of watching my dog pace and run away from windows, I found Penny curled up in a ball in the safest place she could find - under our huge, very heavy, not so sturdy piano.

Feeling pity for my dear friend, I curled up with her under the piano and continued to pet her trembling back. I grew discouraged (and, shamefully, a little bored) as I scratched the underside of her neck and it continued to shake so I did what anyone watching someone struggle would do: climbed out from under the piano, onto the seat, and began to play.

Penny Lane looked up from me as she rested her head on my non-pedal foot and a bright flash shook the room. She looked sad and lonely but I continued to play, hoping to get her mind off of the storm. I was unsure weather a happy song or a sad song would comfort her more, so I wondered awkwardly between major and minor keys. Turns out neither was better than the other.

For about an hour, my eyes wandered between sloppy sheet music and my dog's sad brown eyes. I expected that, with each authentic cadence, her fears would slowly subside. I expected to feel her tremors still and her pulse slow. Instead, I watched hopelessly as she continued to shake, sometimes with even more frequency than before. It became obvious to me that I really was not helping her at all.

I cannot make the storm pass. I cannot steady our shaking floors or silence the booming walls or mask the flashing windows. I can't do any of that. I can't even properly comfort anyone as they face what scares them. All I can do for my puppy, for anyone, is keep playing music and hope that the experience is a little more beautiful and a little less lonely than it would be alone.