Kickass in the spring storm

Kickass, the doorstop dog, and his keeper watched the late Thursday storm come sneaking out of the cold western grave of the day, wearing a rumpled gray sheet, blinking flashes of discord and grumbling thunderously.

Then the rain was steady on the roof, almost like a balm; the gray got grayer, the rain came harder, lightning flashed, wind hissed, thunder boomed; and as night slowly exercised its ultimate authority over it all, the keeper raised his brandy snifter in a toast to the elemental extravaganza: “A spring storm is a damn fine thing!”