The power went out sometime during the night, and we sleep with blackout blinds so the bedroom is pitch black when I wake. I reach around for Katie and find her upside down at my feet. Wondering what time it is I get up to look for my phone but I’m afraid to leave Katie on the bed in the blackness. She resists me picking her up but finally is safe on the floor as we inch out to the living room which is illuminated a bit by the outside gray.

It’s 4:30 a.m.

Our ‘automatic’ generator is not running but I can hear one chugging away somewhere down the street. A big truck with squeaky brakes and a rumbling diesel engine is out on the road, flashers and headlights glowing as electric company employees look for the problem.

Katie growls and barks.

With nothing we can do to fix the problem I carry Katie back to the bedroom, close the door so husband can poke around with a flashlight, and we settle back to sleep. Or not. Katie is restless and I’m afraid of her falling off the bed. But she wants to be close. My little non-snuggling dog presses her hip against mine and gives a big sigh, a sign she’s going back to sleep. But then she’s up, carefully picking her way across pillows to lay near my head, licking my arm and panting. She wants to hold my hand in her mouth, but I gently disengage and scratch her ears. She curls up against my shoulder and sighs again. Then moves slightly away and whimpers a bit. I wonder how much she can see, whether she thinks she has lost her sight. I wonder if being blind would bother her.

And so we wait, Katie and I, we wait for the light to return.

And then…the first hint. The solitary warble of our robin, first tentatively, then stronger, then bursting into full song. The crack between the blinds and the window casing lightens just a bit. The freeway, a mile away, begins to hum.

Katie sighs contentedly and rolls over as I get up to raise the blinds and let the morning in.