"Didn't we get rain on Saturday?" I said.

"Light showers, if that. I'm talking about the real deal here, some heavy action; thick heat and rolling clouds..."

“—The cumulonimbus." I added.

Gary's ears perked up. "Indeed, total atmospheric instability: lightning, sheets of rain, Charles, something I can really sink my teeth into. You know me, I’m a creature of instinct.”

Finally I was beginning to understand Gary. All this time I just saw him as this little hairy guy who liked running up hills, chasing strange animals and urinating on truck tires. Imagine my confusion after he tore into that package of uncooked burger, or that time I ran the vacuum in front of him. Come to think of it, it wasn't uncommon for Gary to stare out a window for hours at a time; collect sticks and small logs, and attack highway water barrels if they cast the wrong kinds of shadows; or to holler and whoop at the high-pitched whistle that I blow when he starts biting my heel.