Musing: Canine Kitchen Flood

One of my dogs had an accident which resulted in a canine kitchen flood. No, no, not the way you just imagined. He’s more creative than that.

By he, of course, I am referring to Typhoon. Being named for a natural disaster is fitting. He’s left a trail of destruction in his wake for the decade he’s lived with us. And, of course, I love him dearly.

The important piece of information you need to know about Typhoon to follow our story is that he is a digestive system nightmare.

Don’t jump to conclusions. Nor was that the cause of the kitchen flood. At least not directly. Or too directly.

Anyway, Typhoon’s digestion meets the same quality standards used to manufacture cheap appliances—sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

The details of his challenges aren’t really necessary. Suffice it to say he has a lengthy list of food allergies, an irritable bowel, and intestines that don’t snake through the body along a normal path. After years of doctors and testing, we have him on a strict diet and a pharmaceutical routine. For the most part, that keeps systems functioning.

But a dog is a dog. Sometimes he eats something he shouldn’t. He’s an amazingly talented counter surfer, snarfing any food product a human leaves unattended.

He scrounges the yard for canine delicacies. Rabbit pellets are currently in season. 

And, he is an astoundingly fast hunter for wildlife that finds itself on the wrong side of our fence, including those pellet producing rabbits.

Yes, he’s outrun rabbits before. It’s as amazing as it is disgusting.

For our particular story, though, I can’t tell you what set off his system. My bet is those rabbit pellets. A regular rabbit resident is a prolific pellet producer of tasty tempting treats. And, yes, I pulled off a triple-triple alliteration.

Our tale begins after midnight, when I was awakened by a high-pitched hum.

Some dogs bark. Scratch. Or whine.

Not Typhoon. He keens. Shrieks. Wails. He has different pitches for different needs.

I’m bored.

I’m thirsty.

In this case, though, the pitch, the urgency, meant only one thing. He had sounded the poonami warning. Whether the humans were ready or not, the wave approached.

Certain sounds are far more effective than alarm clocks. A dog about to horka on a wool rug is a great example. For cat owners, that would be similar to the engagement of the hairball ejection system.

For me, that Wake Up Now Noise is the Typhoon Poonami Alert. A TPA warns that a natural disaster is about to emit a natural disaster.

His demand was clear—get me to the yard or else. Trust me that you do not want to witness “or else.”

I jumped out of bed, dressed enough to avoid freezing or arrest, and raced down the steps behind Typhoon. With each pounding of paws, he emitted noxious fumes that peeled paint from the walls. Rumbling sounds similar to a Harley-Davidson echoed in the corridor.

We bolted through the kitchen to the back door. As I fumbled with the lock, he jigged the “Open This Door or Suffer The Consequences” dance. Fairly warned, I turned on the porch light and yanked open his exit.

One minor detail I should add.

To care for various plants around the yard, we keep a pair of large watering cans outside. Currently, we are having typical March weather, with spring one day and winter the next. The precious blooms and buds scattered about the yard need irrigating, but the cans will freeze overnight if left outside.

So, we wisely stored them inside. Beside the door. Full.

Typhoon, in his haste to waste, barreled through the open door. The only obstacle standing in his way were the pair of buckets, both filled to the brim. Like a furry linebacker clearing a path, he knocked them over and emptied their contents onto the kitchen floor.

Thus, in the middle of the night, I faced a triple natural disaster—a Typhoon Poonami Flash Flood.

With some old towels, I soaked up the water and mopped the floor. By the time I was done, Typhoon was done, mercifully. We retreated upstairs to claim whatever sleep remained before sunrise.

As I drifted off, I practiced my gratitude. I was thankful those stiff, cold winds blew the noxious emissions away from me while I waited with him in the yard. We both celebrated the medicine waiting inside to nurse his systems back to operational.

And, mostly, I had solved what this week’s Monday Musing topic would be.

P.S.—Typhoon is much better. He’s sleeping beside me with only the periodic putrid puff.

Gratuitous Dog Photo: Typhoon Phooey

Typhoon might be slightly annoyed that I shared such a personal story with you this week.

Spectacular Vernacular: Opusculum

Credit for this Spectacular Vernacular goes to the great Ian Fleming who described his literary contributions as opuscula. Read the details here.

Until Next Monday

May you avoid household disasters this week, canine created or not.

See you next Monday.