Storm Rescue Read Free Page B

why Lucy was acting so weird today,” I say. When Bill stares at me blankly, I add, “Mrs. Clark’s cat. And she was grooming herself a lot, too.”
    Bill nods. “It’s not just cats and dogs who react to the weather,” he says. “Falling or changing air pressure can cause deer and other animals to come down from the mountains and look for shelter. Swallows fly lower. Cows lie down a lot more. Even mosquitoes and other flying insects get more active and stay closer to the ground.”
    I nod my head thoughtfully. What Bill is saying makes me think of something I learned in school last year. “My science teacher taught us how to count a cricket’s chirps to tell how hot it is. You count the number of chirps in fourteen seconds, then add forty to that number to get the temperature.”
    â€œThat’s right.” Bill grins. “It’s actually pretty accurate most of the time. So you see, it’s not just poor Stormy who reacts to weather changes. All sorts of animals, birds, and insects do. People, too.” He glances at the exam-room door. “Stormy has always reacted strongly to that sort of thing. And this is the worst storm we’ve been through since we’ve had him. He’s pretty stressed out.”
    Just then the door to the exam room opens, and Dr. Mac pokes her head out. “Oh, good, Sunita,” she says when she sees me. “You’re still here. I need your help.
    I gulp and stand up. “What do you need me to do?” I ask Dr. Mac, trying to sound professional and not at all nervous as I head toward her.
    Dr. Mac is scribbling something on a small pad of paper. She doesn’t answer for a second. Then she finishes her writing and rips off the sheet. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “Could you please go back to the supply closet and find a bottle of these tranquilizers? I think they’re on the second shelf to the right.”
    I stare at the piece of paper in my hand. Dr. Mac doesn’t need my help with Stormy. She just wants me to run and fetch some medicine. “Of course,” I say, relieved. “I’ll be right back.”
    As I hurry out of the room, I can’t help smiling a little about Stormy’s problem. It seems funny that a meteorologist’s dog named Stormy hates storms so much. It’s also kind of weird to think about a huge dog like that being afraid of anything.
    When I get back from the supply closet, the Jermaines are out in the reception area. Stormy is lying on the cool floor near the desk.
    I hand the tranquilizer bottle to Dr. Mac. “Here,” I say. “Will Stormy be all right?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” Dr. Mac bends over to pat the big dog. “I gave him a dose in the exam room, and he’s calmer already, as you can see. Most dogs with this kind of anxiety don’t need any medication, but Stormy is an extreme case. It’s safer to tranquilize a dog than to let him drive himself crazy with anxiety and possibly injure himself.”
    Bill glances at his watch. “Well, we’d better get going,” he says. “We’ve got our work cut out for us these next couple of days.”
    Dr. Mac nods. “Drive carefully,” she says, and gives the Jermaines some last-minute instructions about the tranquilizers. When she opens the door for them, a sheet of rain sweeps in, splashing onto the floor halfway across the room. A crack of thunder booms suddenly, making everyone jump.
    â€œWow.” David whistles. “I guess the picnic is over.”
    Sure enough, when we head outside, most of the guests have already gone. The remaining ones are hurrying toward their cars, holding jackets and newspapers and anything else they can find over their heads. Maggie, Zoe, and Brenna are rushing around trying to get everything out of the rain.
    â€œLook on the bright side, though,” David adds. “At least we’re not broiling