Luna and Jessica's Story
Luna is afraid of the wind. I’m not really sure why or how it started, but the first time it became noticeable to me was when we were living in a beautiful old mansion in Buenos Aires, Argentina (the fact that Luna and I have lived together in four countries and eight cities is a story for another time). The mansion belonged to a trio of sisters who had inherited the house and decided to rent out rooms for long-term stays. It had a lot of shutter-style windows. In the summer, the wind provides divine relief from the humidity and overbearing heat, and is often accompanied by thunderstorms. It was always obvious when a thunderstorm was coming because of the huge gusts of wind that blew the windows back and forth, sometimes slamming, a sound that echoed through the house. Luna’s eyes would get huge as she watched the windows moving mysteriously. I think she thought there were ghosts.
One day, I was out when the thunderstorm winds began their fierce gusts. I thought of Luna, but I was on foot and at least a half hour walk from the house. When I finally got home, I looked for Luna everywhere, but I couldn’t find her. Living with various other vagabonds from around the world in a house with five bedrooms, even though I thought I knew them well, even though the entrance to the house was at the bottom of a wide marble staircase and through a large foyer which would have made it difficult for Luna to suddenly escape through carelessness, I worried that somehow she got out. But those who’d been home hadn’t seen her, and reconfirmed to me that no one would ever let her out. We all love Luna, said Paula, from Lima, Peru.
So I continued the search with the help of my roommates. The wind was still blowing, though by this time I had closed all the windows in the house, not only to keep the rain out, but to keep them from slamming, opening and slamming, opening and slamming, scaring Luna. I checked my bedroom again, but I didn’t see her. I looked in the closet, even though the door was closed. I looked on both gigantic terraces, knowing she would never go out in the rain on her own. I looked on her favorite bean bag chair in the living room. I knocked on the roommates doors who weren’t home, because maybe she would bark if she had accidentally gotten locked in. No sign of her. Not under the kitchen table, not hiding in a corner in the foyer. I went back into my room to cry, so frustrated and confused and concerned, and plopped down on my bed, which was a mattress on the floor.
That’s when I saw a stray black paw creeping out from under the other bed in the room, which wasn’t on the floor like mine. There was Luna, a 70 pound dog with long legs and the thick body of boxer (she’s a boxer/lab mix) under the bed. She somehow finagled her way under there, even though there was clearly no room. How she managed to squeeze into that space was beyond me. She was lying on her side, panting a bit, which made it look like she had a huge smile on her face. I cried anyway, so happy to see her, just as I burst into uncontrollable laughter. She is so clever and so afraid of the wind/ghosts that she would bare being squished, claustrophobic, and uncomfortable in this tiny space under the bed just to hide from the wind ghosts. Also, she looked hilarious under there, so big in such a small space, with just a paw sticking out, the darkness camouflaging all but her eyes. I had to lift the bed up to convince her and her wide eyes to come out from under there, still convulsing from laughter. By this time, a few roommates were gathered at my door, belly laughing as well. We all let out a sigh collectively. Oh Luna.