My dog is at my feet under the desk, shaking and wimpering. He's an old boy and didn't have a problem with thunder until a couple of years ago. Can't figure out what started his fear. As long as I am touching him, he calms down. Poor baby. The little dog, Gracie, is sprawled out on the treadmill, no worries in the world for her. Thank God for the rain, it has been dry.