He was an old man now, although he never thought of himself that way. Inside, he was the same as always, wasn't he? The same little boy frightened by the flash of lightning and the rolling patter of rain against his window. The dogs are scared tonight, he thought. They don't understand Nature ripping apart the sky, the moon, the stars. Pulling a blanket over his head, he breathed deeply, wondering if dogs talk among themselves, fooling us into believing they don't understand what Nature can do. Let me sleep, he thought, his mind blurring to an orchestra of raindrops and shadows dancing in the night ... rolling to the Samba of a mysterious visitor. Was it raining that night so long ago, he asked himself? Or was it his grandpa ... standing like a tall ghost in white long-johns, gray beard down to his chest, saying, "Come, child ... don't be afraid." Gently, the grandfather wiped away the little boy's tears. "I heard you," he said. "I knew I had to come and see you." The little boy loved his grandfather. He could talk with his grandfather in a way that he couldn't talk with anyone else in the world. Illustration by Ron Hevener Taking his hand, the grandfather led the boy past a collection of glass dogs and plastic horses on the dresser, lined up like toy soldiers on the windowsill, and past childish drawings of animals taped onto plaster walls. Down the hall, past the door to his parents' room they went; down the stairs, through the kitchen and outside to the porch. They stood there, side by side, for the longest time, watching, listening, breathing-in the storm as it washed the world clean. A flash of lightning! "Did you see him?" the grandfather asked. The little boy didn't see him. Another burst of light! "Up there," the grandfather pointed. "On the mountain. Beside that big rock." The boy rubbed his eyes and tried. He tried his best. He wanted to see, but he didn't. "What does he look like, Grandpa?" "Beautiful," the grandfather said. "A long time ago, when I was clearing this mountain, we used teams of horses - strong horses - to pull the logs away. They pulled them all the way to the river, and that's where we pushed the logs into the water and they floated down to the saw mill. The mill paid us by the log and my loan payment was due at the bank." The boy could hardly imagine his grandfather doing such things. But, people who loved animals were amazing. People who loved animals were magic! "I had a white stallion back then. I called him 'Lightning.' He was the strongest and the most beautiful horse around. Pure white, with a flowing mane and tail. He was special. One night, I was hurrying to clear off a section of trees. I knew a storm was coming, and the rest of the lumbermen had gone home and it was getting dark, but, my horses knew the way to the river. One last load, I told myself. Just one more and I can make that bank payment. That's when it happened." "What, Grandpa? What happened?" "A pack of stray dogs came at us and you never saw such fighting. My own dog, Shep, held them off as long as he could, but they went for the horses - biting and snapping. Jumping like wolves! I couldn't hold the horses back!" The old man grew quiet, seeing it all again. "Lightning reared up and started running for the river. He ran all the way, pulling that log, and me and the other horses with him. If it wasn't for Shep holding them off, I think those dogs would have torn me and the horses apart." "Did you make it?" the little boy asked. "Did you make it to the river?" But, he knew the answer. He knew it well. "We made it," his grandpa nodded strangely, as he recalled the haunting moment. "The stallion led the other horses right into the river and pulled the log along with us. Some of the dogs jumped in, but the water swirled up and swept them away. It was a log jam. We weren't going to make it. I had to do something!" The boy knew what his grandfather had done. He knew the story from other ghostly visits like this, when life was stormy and he was afraid. He could see his grandfather and the horses trapped in the log jam as he so often felt trapped. He could feel leather reins slipping from his grandfather's desperate grip, tangling madly around legs -- arms -- and pulling them under the churning waters. He had never told anybody of his mysterious visitors. Never breathed a word of the grandfather watching over every storm of his life, or the spirit of the stallion roaming the mountain forever ... mane flying proudly in the wind, hooves pounding to the beat of a Samba, electric screams shattering the night.... "Can you see him?" the grandfather asked, as he so often did in dreams like this. "Yes, Grandpa. I can see him," said the little boy in the dream who loved horses, dogs and magic ... the boy who became an old man and never thought of himself that way. Comments from Readers: True story? RH: Very close to it. Writers are allowed to use "creative license" you know. But, if you believe in mysterious things - and most animal lovers do - it's not that much of a stretch. Is it? Reprinted with permission. Author/Artist, Ron Hevener, is owner of one of the oldest kennels in the U.S. — Lochranza Kennels. He is the author of "The Blue Ribbon" — "Fate of the Stallion" and "High Stakes." His collectible figurines and watercolor prints are sought at dog, cat and horse shows everywhere. See more at www.ronhevener.com If you would like to write to Ron Hevener, send your e-mail directly to Hevener@dejazzd.com or info@canadasguidetodogs.com and include "On With The Show" in the subject line.

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