As a poster child for obsessive organization, I had a master plan that was executed flawlessly in preparation for Hurricane Irene. Days before the hurricane, we stocked up on water, ice packs, and batteries, stored all of the lawn furniture in the shed, and brought all of my pots and planters inside. On the day before the hurricane, we cleared the basement of anything that could get damaged if there was a flood and filled the bathtub with water so we could flush the toilets if we lost power. When we went to sleep saturday night, I was confident that we had accounted for every contingency.
But I was wrong.
At 3am the power went out. And then, something started beeping.
It was an intermittent, high pitched beep meant to alert us to the fact that something electronic had lost its power source.
It also, coincidentally, was identical to the intermittent high pitched beep made by the dog’s collar when he gets too close to the electronic dog fence.
So now imagine, it is 3am, there is a mystery beep coming from somewhere, which we can’t find because the power is out and it is pitch black in the house, and the dog is freaking out because he thinks someone moved the electric fence into the house.
My husband grabbed a flashlight and started tracking the beep through the house… and along the way, he stepped in something warm and soft.
Apparently, the dog, in his fear, started pooping through the house.
In an effort to save the house from further poopage, my husband let the dog out back.
Now here, is where it got really interesting.
My husband found the beep, cleaned up the poop, and went to let the dog back in. Unfortunately he forgot that whenever the dog gets freaked out by a beep in the house, if you let him out, he will not come back in.
So my husband went outside, into the hurricane, found the dog WAY in the back of the property, and carried the dog back into the house.
Did I mention the dog weighs 80 pounds?
…and the backyard was flooded?
…and Hurricane force winds were blowing and torrents of rain were coming down?
AND.. I slept through the whole thing.
Yes, my husband is a saint.
Or maybe he was just paying me back for all those nights I got up with the kids when they were sick or all those mornings when I discovered some “gift” the dog had left for us on the family room rug.
Or maybe, I’m just really good at pretending I’m asleep.