Toto, my little Yorkie, predicts the storm before it starts. She is a talented weather girl. A precise meteorologist. She whines, circles, presses her warm body against my leg to warn me – a warning to ‘brace yourself’. As is the nature of storms, they always win.

When the storm comes, it’s never just rain. It is lightning behind my eyes, it is terrifying thunder rolling through my veins. It is a tornado of electricity that lifts me from myself, takes me somewhere unknown and then drops me in the dark.

When the storm settles and the darkness lifts, I am somewhere between Oz and Kansas. The world is tilted. The air hums. My head aches, I feel sick. My hands tremble as if still clinging to the tail of the wind.

But there is Toto – chest rising and falling, wet nose nudging my palm, eyes steady as the North Star. She doesn’t speak, but her heartbeat tells me: You’re here. You made it back.

Where I am, I am not fully sure yet. The whirlwind has confused me but I will figure it out with time. Something smells like home – lavender, lemon and a faint musk of dog hair. Sunlight spills over us, golden and warm. The tornado is gone but it reverberates in my limbs. I stroke Toto’s head with my clumsy, shaking hand and whisper, I’m safe, yeah?

Her tail thumps once.

I think of the old wishing spell and my lack of ruby red slippers,

There’s no place like home

Home is not the walls, nor the bed, not even the front door.

Home is the heartbeat beside me when the storm finally passes.

(This is dedicated to all seizure alert dogs for saving lives on a daily basis. Thank you for doing the jobs you do and for your love and loyalty.

I have made it home again, I have survived another storm. Thank you Toto)

💙💜