Meteorologist Gus the Caviston

Mom stood gazing out at the frozen tundra that used to be our backyard shaking her head. "You know, Gus," she said, slowly sipping her morning tea, "a meteorologist is the only job in the world where you can mess up all the time, and no one cares."

My ear perked up - just the one actually goes up, you know. Mom was babbling on about how the meteorologists predicted we'd get a foot of snow, but really all we got was about four inches of snow followed by several inches of sleet and freezing rain that put a thick glaze of ice over the snow, making it impossible to step foot outside without slipping and sliding all over the place. Mom kept on about how a fluffy snow would have been lovely, but by then I had quit listening, because I wanted to hear about the actual meteorologist job.

I do have a therapy dog dream, and Mom did say I could probably work at Walmart, but a job where you can mess up all the time and still be on good terms with people sounds like the best job for me. I do tend to mess up a lot. I mean, who knew that the turf at dog daycare was not meant to be eaten? If a meteorologist snacked on some turf, would people tell them they are bad or call them turf eaters? It sounds like maybe not, so I set out to investigate this new career idea.

Sizing up December's snowstorm

The American Meteorological Society says a meteorologist is an individual with specialized education, who uses scientific principles to observe, understand, explain, or forecast phenomena in the Earth’s atmosphere. That's a lot for a dog to unpack. I set my tablet in front of Mom, who had finally quit ranting about how she was never going to be able to shovel the driveway without busting the ice up into blocks we could use to build an igloo.

"What's this?" she asked, eyeing me and the tablet at the same time.

"Help me understand this meteorologist job."

Mom smiled. "You were actually listening to me?" She hugged me tight. "Thank you, Gus. I'm glad someone actually listens to me around here." Don't tell her I said she was babbling, ok? I don't want to have to return the snuggle.

Mom adjusted her glasses and read the definition out loud. "Hmmm. Well, the weather comes from the Earth's atmosphere. So, the meteorologists study what's happening there - the wind, the temperature, humidity, the barometric pressure, and cloud types and formations." Mom explained. "Then they can tell you what the weather will be, because they can use what they studied to predict what's coming next outside. Or not," she ended skeptically.

"So, it's like a weather person?" I asked, unimpressed.

"Yes, usually," Mom replied. "But people who study meteorology do other work besides weather - like they work on fixing air pollution and doing global climate studies and stuff like that."

"But mostly it's the weather?"

Mom nodded as I flipped the tablet closed. "You don't need these pretenders," I told her. She raised her eyebrows and made her "oh really" face. "Seriously. I can predict the weather."

Mom sat up and turned in her seat to face me. "You can predict the weather?"

"Don't say it like you think I'm making it up," I said defensively. "Us dogs have a much stronger sense of smell, better hearing, and sensitivity to weather changes and changes in the atmosphere."

"How's that work?" Mom asked, this time with genuine interest.

I was thrilled to teach Mom something for once. "The air smells a bit different before it rains, so I know when that's coming. I can tell when the air changes for snow, too. I can hear thunder from very far away - even before you hear it - and I can sense static electricity in the air."

"So, meteorologists use science and computerized tools to predict the weather, but you just use your sniffer, huh?"

"Pretty much. The thing about dogs - loads of animals, actually - is that we can sense sudden changes or shifts in the atmosphere. We can tell something has changed before science can. Take the shift from fluffy, snowy blizzard forecast to frozen tundra forecast. Had you asked, I could have told you."

Mom smiled. "Can I be the one to tell Dad we don't need his minute-by-minute weather updates anymore?"

"Nah, let's not ruin his fun," I replied. "But I can help you learn to recognize my signs of changing weather, if you want." Mom nodded. "You know what my 'antsy' movements are, right? Try paying attention to see if those show up more before a storm. Also, I follow you around a lot more when I want to tell you something - and it's not always that I want a treat!"

Mom said she would take these examples to heart, and if she and I could get pretty good at this weather thing, we'd start our own weather vlog! I do love a good video blog. "In the meantime," Mom said, "there's another storm headed this way at the end of the week. Keep me posted on how you're feeling about that."

Mission accepted! Signing off -

Gus the Caviston, Meteorologist

Last year, I lobbied for the Pets with Disabilities Act. My humans listened. For a dog with wonky legs, my humans put a tarp down before this week's icy snow, so I could have a safe space to do my business!

**Fact checks from info provided courtesy of the AMS and the Weather Channel.