We have a dog. Jack. He’s a golden retriever. He’s a hairball. He’s constantly dropping his hair all over my floor, which drives me nuts. Kenny is allergic, and since we are brilliant people we chose a breed that sheds more than any other. Besides the hair and a few pieces of pizza and a scone or two being snatched off the counter I really have no complaints. He’s a good dog. He’s extremely laid back, but we think he has the brain the size of a pea.
He is always ecstatic to see us when we drive in. We have a long driveway so we pull the trash barrels down on the hitch of the truck. We have to make two trips, and Jack goes through his whole prancing barking routine each time we come back for a new barrel….which is maybe three minutes later, he greets Ken like he has been gone for hours.
Jack will chase his tale until the cows come home. Quite frankly it makes me dizzy. We thought he would out grow it, he’s six, he hasn’t. He still chases his tale like it’s the first time. So all of this combined with many other things has earned him the title of dumb. I know…it’s horrible. We love him we really do. We have told him he was dumb more than I like to admit.
This is why, our “not so dumb” dog, who couldn’t see the fire, but sensed it, was barking his fool head off. With in seconds of Kenny getting out of our bed, he hollered for me to call 911 because the barn was on fire. He hollered for me to do it, because he was already on the horn trying to see if his brother was up. That’s how brothers are. Brothers first, 911 second. Brother was not up, he had to call again. I got 911 on the first try.
Because of how far off the road our houses and the barn set, they had to run hose all the way down the driveway and down the street to the corner, nearly a quarter mile to the nearest hydrant. Which meant shutting down the road. They had that hose out and pumping faster than you could say fire hose….or at least faster than I could have with my chin having convulsions. See the water blasting out of that hose? Imagine that same water pressure pumping out of your armpits……..
We all learned a lesson in our house this weekend. Well, we learned lots of lessons. But they all sort of are summed up by the old saying, “the show must go on”. As my daughter learned after being up half the night. Dead tired, but she didn’t want to miss her softball team pictures at 8:30 AM and then a her first game of the season to follow. Ugh….
And well, then there was the minor detail of our house guest from France that were arriving at 10:45am. They were supposed to come in the night before, but there flight was canceled. Which I now see was an answer to prayer. What a bummer it would have been for them to arrive and be awoken to a huge roaring barn fire at four in the morning, their first night of vacation in the USA.
Oh golly…then there was the fact that we had baked all these cinnamon rolls Friday, and lots of people were going to be stopping by to pick them up. My brother-n-law had the driveway blocked because of snoopers…..I had to break the news that I had fortyish some people stopping by to pick up their rolls. I’m an annoying sister-n-law.