Max was a fluffy golden retriever with floppy ears and a tail that usually wagged like a happy pendulum. He lived in a cozy blue house with his loving family - the Andersons - who gave the best belly rubs and always kept his favorite squeaky bone 🎵 within reach.

Most days, Max was the happiest dog on Maple Street. He loved chasing butterflies in the garden, playing fetch with little Tommy Anderson, and sharing his water bowl with the neighborhood dogs. But there was one thing that made Max’s tail stop wagging and his whole body tremble 🎵: thunderstorms.

Whenever dark clouds 🎵 gathered in the sky, Max would dash under Tommy’s bed 🎵 faster than you could say “puppy treats.” His heart would thump 🎵-thump-thump like a drum, and his paws would shake like jelly.

“It’s okay, Max,” Tommy would say, peeking under the bed. “The storm can’t hurt you.”

But Max couldn’t help feeling ashamed. He was a big dog, after all. Shouldn’t he be braver?

One sunny afternoon 🎵, Max was playing in the park with his dog friends 🎵 - Luna the poodle and Rocky the bulldog. They were having the best time chasing each other around the grass when tiny droplets 🎵 began falling from the sky.

“Oh boy, sprinkles!” barked Luna, spinning in circles.

“This feels great on my fur!” woofed Rocky.