Sparky was no ordinary dog. Whenever he was angry, lightning would flash threatening – so don’t take his favourite squeak toy. When he was happy, the sun would shine with balmy heat all over his backyard (and if he was particularly keen, the front yard too – though never on the cat’s suntanning spot).
One day, Sparky realised what he was able to do. By willing it, angrily staring at the postman and barking, he was able to summon up a whirlwind that whipped down and snatched the poor man from his seat, scattering letters everywhere for him to chase.
Oh the joy. The wild ecstatic flights and tearing frenzies.
Then another day, a truck nearly ran him down. Chasing a squirrel from white ground to black, he forgot all the lessons his owner Claudius had taught him and stopped short to watch a wall of complex steel barrelling level to his face.
The fainting, whimpering. He could barely stand and felt his bowels lose control. Luckily, the truck smacked his skull a little, denting the fender, and he merely keeled over and lost consciousness. The weather was very strange that day – rainbows that looked like little tweeting birds flitting from cloud to cloud over the little town of Derby..
Sparky woke up a new dog. He had forgotten he could control the weather, and Derby never saw another strange weather day – much to the regret of some. “Sparky, Sparky! Here boy.” There was only the call of his beloved owner whom he loved to lick, the squirrels to chase, and the vague memory of something he used to be able to do..
And he started growling at lightning again.