Strange Complaints

There is a touch of madness in the air when the tornado sirens go off and you find yourself having to wrangle two giant goofy dogs into a storm shelter before the possible storm turns into a definite disaster.

First of all, there is the instant disagreement with them that this is not a “let’s go potty” moment as they race back and forth through the hallway with roots in their mouths and hopeful joy in their hearts.

Joy that I apparently crushed into devastated sorrow by pointing emphatically in another direction and refusing to take them into the backyard.

Wanna go peeeee!

No.

Wanna go playyyyy!

No!

Finally, when I opened the door to the storm shelter, our oldest figured it out since she’s lived through quite a few storms with us and zoooooomed right on in. The youngest, however, has other opinions, so the wife and I found ourselves trying to wrestle her down and squeeze her into the door.

Nothing more fun as sirens tell you to panic than trying to catch a fat little house hippo Houdini who seems to be made of pure muscle and mischief.

There were moments I wanted to just leave her loose, I swear. She’s lucky Rosa said no to that.

Once we finally got us all inside and slid the latch closed, both dogs decided there were millions of other places they’d rather be.

As we listened to the weather and tried to figure just how close the possible tornado was coming - hint: too close - one hid under my legs while the other stared at the door and whined like it had stolen all her cookies and was eating them on the other side.

Wanna go outsiiiiiiiide!

No!

Wanna go outside or we sing the songs of our people!!!

Dear God, no…

OwwoooooooooOooooOoOoOOoOooo

Take me, Lord….

WOOOOOOoooOoooOoOoOoO

… while I would have sworn on a Bible in front of judge and jury that this went on for hours, eventually the sirens fell silent and the weatherman said the danger was clear …

Ten minutes. Minutes.

That’s all it was. Ten minutes.

When we finally opened the door to go back into the house, the youngest dog bounded out as if to catch the storm eating her treats, while I had to pry Maggie out of the shelter with a crowbar.

She wasn’t falling for an obvious trap.

Eventually, I got them both outside in the backyard, where they both pottied and glared suspiciously at the clouds.

I might have glared a little too.

All in all, we give this storm ZERO STARS, would NOT recommend.

Until later…