Duke, is he a dog or a mouse...

About a year ago our daughter found a beautiful young golden retriever running the streets of Abilene in the rain. We happened to be in town and she was leaving on a trip, so we were convinced to take him home to FW with us "until she found his owner."  Righhhtttt. To make a long story short, there were numerous efforts to find said family with no luck and he has since become a part of our family.

I can't remember what Emily called him early on, but one night Lynette said he looks like a Duke. At which time his head popped up and he looked directly at me like "She knows my name!"  I asked him if his name was Duke and he got visibly excited, so Duke it is and shall be until he audibly lets us know otherwise.

There  are a number of odd things about Duke. First, we found that he will eat anything that is left out (he is large enought to reach anything on the counter or island in the middle of our kitchen). His favorite things appear to be chocolate. He has eaten from our counter two or three chocolate cakes, a couple of pans of brownies, and several chocolate chip muffins pulled directly from the muffin pan. The wives tale about chocolate being bad for dogs evidently does not apply to Duke. On at least two occasions he has eaten something wrapped in plastic wrap or foil because I have found his bowel movements in the yard, neatly wrapped in those undigested coverings as if intentionaly done for convenience.

The most unusual thing about Duke (and here is where your help is required) is his aversion to storms. This 65 pound dog becomes a pacing, whining scaredy-cat that shivers uncontrollably when a storm arrives. It is bad enough during the day, but at 3 in the morning it is more than a nuisance. Nothing like having a big dog land with all fours in the middle of you during a deep sleep. We have tried most everything and nothing seems to work.

Finally, a few nights ago Lynette had all she could take. We have a crate in the room that our small dog has used in the past and she decided Duke was going in that crate. I looked up from the bed to see her on the floor pushing Duke with all her might into the crate, and Duke was winning. After several intertaining minutes, Lynette succeded and Duke was packed in for the night. I threatened to film the next encounter for all to see on youtube, but Lynette reminded me I might not want the video of her in her night gown pushing anything across the floor. Point taken. Could you wear pajamas, I asked?

Anyway, if anyone knows a fool-proof way to help bring out the man, er dog, in Duke during storms we would appreciate it. Dog whisperers are welcome.