Thunderstorms

Sound Advice

/ Ann Coleman / 67 Comments

IMG_7716If there’s one thing we dogs know, it’s that loud noises ALWAYS mean danger.  And even though my parents adopted me from an animal shelter in Missouri, I’m originally from Louisiana, where flooding is common.  That means I know rain can also spell big trouble, and the only sensible thing to do when the rains come is to move to higher ground.  (It’s not my fault that the best “higher ground” in my house is the dining room table, but try telling Mom that.  She has a hissy fit every time I try to climb up there.  Luckily, she’s not always home when I feel the need to heighten.)

Anyway, it goes without saying that when you combine rain with thunder and lightening from a storm, what you get is a situation that strikes pure terror in the heart of your average dog.  Yes, I know that some dogs aren’t fazed by nasty weather, but all I can say to that is obviously, some dogs aren’t all that smart.  I don’t mean to speak ill of my own, but I think we all know that every species has a few members who were obviously not present when brains were being handed out, and why should dogs be any different?  Those of us who know better have a very healthy respect for the horrors that bad weather can bring.  And if you don’t believe me, just listen to the weather forecasters when they think a hurricane, tornado, or some other weather disaster is approaching.  They may not pant and try to hide, but they sure do panic and urge everyone else to do the same.

Which is why I, and every other sensible creature on this planet, hate rain and storms.  Unfortunately, here in the Midwest, they are very common in late Spring and early Summer and basically impossible to avoid.  In other words, this time of year is bad enough all by itself without adding anything else to the mix.  So what do humans do?  They have a little celebration called “The Fourth of July” every year on, you guessed it, July 4th.  And do you know how they celebrate it?  With fireworks, that’s how.  Loud, terrifying, relentless fireworks that begin sometime around July 1st and keep going until the people setting them off run out.

First of all, the only appropriate way to celebrate any holiday is with food.  And I mean lots of food, generously shared with the four-footed, furry members of the family.  There is no need for anything else, much less something as terrifying as fireworks.  I mean seriously, why would anyone deliberately try to make a noise that sounds like the loudest thunderbolt ever, and looks like the whole sky is lit up by deadly lightening?  And see what I mean about every species having a few members who come up a bit short in the brain department?  Fireworks are proof positive of that.

Thankfully, the fireworks are over for another year and the storm season should be winding down shortly.  That means I can get back to enjoying my life with my family and stop being so scared.  And who knows?  Maybe sometime in the coming months people will wise up and ban not only all fireworks, but rain and thunderstorms too.  A dog can hope…..

Love, Finn   

 

A Dog’s Life

/ Ann Coleman / 89 Comments

1V5A5533Sometimes it’s not easy being a dog.  Don’t get me wrong:  I love my family.  I really do.  And after living for months in an animal shelter, I’m really grateful to be in a house with my own dog bed, dog toys, and best of all, my own supper dish.  My human parents treat me very well most of the time.  They take me for walks, play with me, and give me lots of attention.  Plus, I’ve got them trained to be very generous with the dog treats.

But there are still times when it’s hard to be a dog living in a house that is run by humans.  Because sometimes humans say and do things that don’t make any sense at all.

For instance, our house has two beds, three couches, and five upholstered chairs.  Every single piece of that furniture is absolutely perfect for curling up and sleeping on.  I know, because I’ve done it.  They’re incredibly soft and comfortable, and obviously designed for a good nap.  But what happens whenever Mom or Dad finds me sleeping on them?  I get told to get down, that’s what.  And not too nicely, either.  Sometimes they even call me a bad dog.

Thunderstorms are another example.  Whenever I hear the rumble of thunder, or even sense the change in atmosphere that tells me a storm is coming, I do the only sensible thing and hide.  Everyone knows that when the end of the world is so obviously imminent, your only chance is to find a safe spot to ride it out.  But do my parents join me?  Nope.  They just go on about their business, acting as if nothing is wrong.  Sometimes (and I swear I’m not making this up), they even put on their raincoats and leave the house.  I can hear them driving off, leaving me all alone to face the danger.

But the weirdest stuff started a couple of months ago, when the vet told my Mom that I had tested positive for heart worm.  I didn’t think it was such a big deal, since worms are rather common in the dog world, but my parents freaked out.  No more walks for me, or games of fetch.  Dad even fenced off most of the yard so I didn’t have much room to run around.  Worst of all, they switched me to a low-calorie dog food.  It doesn’t taste nearly as good as my regular food, but I had to eat it anyway.

They made me go to the vet twice to get some injections, and I can tell you that dogs don’t like to get shots any more than people do.  The second time I even had to spend the night at the vet’s office.  Whatever was in that shot made me feel sore and tired for a long time, but gradually I began to feel better.  Still, I wondered if I’d ever get my normal life back.

Thankfully, my vet has decided that the heart worms are gone, and my parents have calmed down.  Dad even took down that ugly temporary fence, so now I can go behind the garage and hunt for varmits.  The rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks have gotten really bold during the time I’ve been on restrictions, but I’ll soon put an end to that.

So, I guess there’s hope for my parents after all.  If they can figure out that dogs are supposed to be able to go for walks and play in the back yard, they might figure out the other stuff too.  Maybe they’ll even join me under the chair the next time there’s a thunderstorm.  And if we don’t all fit under there, I’ve got some diet dog food I’d gladly share….

Love, Finn

Try a Little Kindness

/ Ann Coleman / 100 Comments

Late last Friday afternoon, almost all of St. Louis was under a severe thunderstorm warning, with a chance for tornadoes to develop.  I was worried that my daughter and son-in-law wouldn’t make it to the daycare center in time to get my grandson, so I offered to pick him up.  We all met at my house just before the storm broke.  Thankfully, we didn’t get any tornadoes, but we got a lot of rain in a very short amount of time.

fullsizeoutput_54c2At first it was sort of fun to stand on our front porch and watch the rain come down, once we were sure it was safe to do so.  But then we noticed that the water was steadily rising, and that some of the neighbor’s recycling bins were floating down the street.  Soon the water was up to the hubcap’s of my daughter’s car, which was parked in front of our house.  Our drive-way looked like a river, and we watched, fascinated, as several plastic drainage pipes floated down our driveway, followed by small branches and what looked like an Amazon Prime package.  As my one-year old grandson so eloquently put it, “Oh, no!”

We’ve lived in our house for over twenty-five years and this is only the second time I’ve seen this type of flooding.  When the rain finally let up and the water began to recede,  my husband went around back to see if our garage had been flooded.

The good news was that the inside of our garage was dry.  The bad news was that the mother of our new neighbor behind us was out in her daughter’s yard, inspecting the damage.  And she was, to put it mildly, a little out of sorts.  She didn’t understand how so much water ended up in her daughter’s back yard.  She shared her opinion that the three skinny bushes we had planted between our yards must have caused all that water to back up onto her daughter’s property, and wanted to know what kind of idiot would plant bushes there.  The situation was, she kept repeating, “unacceptable.”

My husband is normally a patient man.  He listened to her complaints, then pointed out that our houses sit at the bottom of our street and that the water from the top of our street flows downhill towards us.  And that the three scraggly bushes did nothing to prevent the thousands of gallons of water from pouring down our driveway, so they’d hardly cause a flood in her daughter’s yard.  But eventually he’d had enough, and came back inside, shaking his head at her behavior.  My guess is that this woman has never been nominated for neighbor of the year.

The thing is, I understood why she was upset.  Her daughter had recently moved into the house, and I’m sure it was very concerning for her to see the kind of flooding we experienced last Friday.  But what I can’t excuse is how determined she was to find someone to blame, and how she took her anger out on my husband.  That, in my opinion, is what’s truly “unacceptable.” We don’t always get to control our emotions, but we most certainly can control how we express them.  And from a purely practical standpoint, it’s never a good idea to alienate the people who live next to you.

Luckily, the young woman who actually lives in the house is very nice, and doesn’t seem to be angry at all.  Which means that I think she will be a nice neighbor, and who knows?  We might even be able to work together to figure out a way to redirect at least some of the water from heavy rains.

But meanwhile, I have to say that I’m hoping that her mother doesn’t visit very often……