17/2/12: Weather extremes and Assisi   When the heavens split, Miso, our short-legged dog, endures the subversion of her home absolutely. If there is a human lap available, she hops up, then folds herself away upon it, to shudder through her long body, exuding a rancid doggy-smell, ill-comforted by my cupping off her ears to shut out the celestial bangs overhead. I can press, I can stroke, but I cannot restore the little dog’s sense that home remains home despite the uproar. And if there is no home, how can there be a future? There are threats and threats. The…