She is at work and the storms are really bad.
Loud. Rumbling. Shaking the house.
I take shelter in the bathroom. Only she didn’t plan ahead for this storm and there are no cushions on the floor.
Worse, she isn’t there to tell me it’s okay.
So I do the logical thing and hop into the bathtub. Which wasn’t nearly as good an idea as you might think.
Because now my hips hurt and I can’t get any traction to jump back out. And it is hard and cold and maybe I hurt myself a bit when I jumped in here. And now I have to wait because I can’t get back out.
The storms end, but I still have to wait. And wait and wait. At last she comes home.
She calls for me like she always does when she gets home, “Hi Handsome, I’m home.”
But of course I can’t go to her because I am trapped in the bathtub. I wait.
She looks for me in the bedroom where I usually sleep while she is away. “Are you okay?” she asks the empty room, because she is in the bedroom and I am in the bathtub.
“Huff,” she calls. “Where are you?”
As if I can answer.
“Huff?” I can hear the panic rising in her voice. She searches the kitchen and living room - both of which she just passed through. Neither of which has hiding places. She checks under the dining room table. As if.
She goes back to the bedroom.
“Huff!” She is upset and it is upsetting me. But I need her to come and get me out of here.
She looks under the bed where I never go.
She moves the rolling clothes racks, which I couldn’t possibly hide behind.
She keeps calling me but I can’t tell her that I am in the only room she hasn’t checked yet although she has walked by it several times.
Obviously, I am going to have to get out of here on my own. I scramble around trying to get my footing and at last she hears me and comes running into the bathroom. Finally.
She flip flops between concern and laughter. “Oh Huff are you okay? I thought I lost you!”
Then she laughs at me standing there, unable to hop out. You’d think I would get more respect at my age for being able to jump in here. Honestly, I am really not sure how I did it.
She is gentle about picking me up and setting me on the floor. She makes sure I'm not hurt, but then she’s gets all judg-y like “Really? You thought that was a good idea?” I do not need a lecture. I am looking for my dignity.
Now she’s back to concerned. “You could have been hurt!”
Then judg-y, “You silly dog.”
Then back to rubbing me down to check for pulled muscles and make sure my hips are in line. Now it’s “You goofball.”
I am sure what she meant to say was “You brave handsome dog protecting the house from the storm while I was gone.” She struggles for the right words sometimes. I get extra love and treats that night, so I am sure that is what she meant.
It’s tough be the storm safety dog.
More Adventures with Huff
For the latest: See The Huff Diary