Sweet Faces

Two of the sweetest faces I know.  Maxwell with my middle daughter Emma in an impromptu portrait.

Thunder & Lightning

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Some of you may have heard or read about the tornadoes that swept through the DFW area last night.  I actually love severe weather, and every spring here brings the atmospheric instability needed to fire off huge thunderstorms.  Severe weather season tends to begin around the first of March when it starts warming up enough to fuel the storms, and continues until the middle of May when it gets so hot that the storms are choked off.

This year has been remarkably quiet.  In fact my wife and I were discussing it during the day yesterday--I'm not sure that there had even been a severe weather warning of any type up to that point for this Spring.  I was anxious to see how Maxwell would handle the storms.  Our previous boy, Bo, hated storms.  He'd dissolved into a whimpering, simmering, droolly mess.  We hadn't really had any big storms yet to evaluate Maxwell's response.

Well, that all changed last night.

A band of supercells developed well to the west of the Metroplex, and slowly inched their way eastward.  The storms were very large, and somewhat odd as each individual storm was tracking due east.  Usually the storms track southwest to northeast, while the front they fire on travels west to east.  Another oddity--the storms were moving very slowly.  Normally they move 40-50 mph which means they can surprise with their sheer speed, but also means they're quickly gone.  Not so yesterday; the storms were moving 10-15 mph.  This should have meant plenty of warning for those in the path, but instead it meant the storms were moving erratically, and when they struck, they struck with a vengeance and hung around.

There were reports of grapefruit sized hailstones near Mineral Wells, a small town to the northeast of DFW.  Then to the southwest the town of Granbury had two large residential neighborhoods obliterated by a large tornado.  That storm continued on, cycling up and down in strength, finally reaching the rural town of Cleburne TX. 

The news coverage I was watching to keep an eye on the storm (always prudent, even if the storms aren't directly threatening your area--as you will soon see), had a storm spotter on the phone in the Cleburne area.  It was dark by this time, an exceptionally dangerous time to be chasing storms because of the lack of visibility.  He was reporting on weather they had seen earlier in the evening, describing hail and damage they'd seen. 

Suddenly he exclaimed, "Oh my God, it's right there! Back up! Back up, back up, back up!"

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They had spotted a large wedge tornado that he estimated had a base more than a mile wide.  Wedge tornadoes are exceptionally powerful.  For example, the F5 tornado that leveled Moore OK in 1999 was a wedge, and areas of Moore were simply removed from the Earth, scoured down to the foundation slabs.

As this unfolded in the live coverage, the announcer broke in again and announced a new tornado warning issued for Arlington--where we live.  Now realize, Arlington is a mere suburb of Dallas and Fort Worth.  But we also have more than 375,000 residents--no small village.  In fact Arlington makes the top 50 largest cities in the United States. 

Here in the South the weather services are able to zoom in to street level, where they can superimpose city maps on their radar, and give out specific streets, blocks, etc. to help warn people.  When they zoomed in on the new Arlington tornado warning, the nearest cross streets they announced are about 100 yards away from my house!  At about that moment, the tornado sirens in the area went off.  If you've never heard a tornado siren, it's a sound that will send shivers up your spine. 

The kids were all in bed, most of them asleep.  I carried each of them into our most interior bathroom one by one, and herded Maxwell in with us.  Shut and locked the door.

And waited.

The lights flickered several times, but stayed on.

In about 10 minutes, not hearing any destructive noises, I ventured out and checked the TV again.  The storm had moved about 1/2 mile past us to the east.

As I cradled each child, carrying them back to bed, I contemplated what it might mean to lose them.  The pit of hopelessness that yawed open in front of me is a place I deeply, deeply hope I never visit.

My heart and soul go out to all those that experienced loss of life and property in the storms last night.

As far as Maxwell goes, he was completely unperturbed by the storm--in fact he wanted to go play in the rain.

Silly boy.

Maxwell Goes to School

Well, sort of.

Chilling for the ride.

Maxwell usually rides shotgun with me to pick up Emma from kindergarten each afternoon when I'm not at work.  He knows the ringtone I've chosen for the alarm I set to remind me to get her, and heads to the front door expectantly when it goes off.

It's just a short drive, but he loves every minute of it.

When we pull into the circle drive and assume our position in line amongst the other "car rider" parents, he can hardly wait for me to get the windows rolled down.

Roll down the window already!

We usually have 10 or 15 minutes to wait until the kids are released and escorted out to us.  Max stands in the open window and takes stock of who has jockeyed themselves into which position in line, thereby cementing their worth and status as a parent in the after school pageantry that is elementary school dismissal.  (Seriously. I've come to pick Emma early for a dentist appointment and there's people parked in the circle drive an hour before dismissal to ensure they have first place in line.  It's a little ridiculous.)  All the while the other parents do their best to avoid eye contact with Maxwell and appear as unimpressed as possible.  Comical really.  I probably derive entirely too much sardonic enjoyment from that fact.

Maxwell just loves to see and be seen.

However, Maxwell is very popular with the teachers working the car rider line.  We may have held up the entire line a time or two so a teacher can get their share of Maxwell lovin'.  One of Emma's favorite teachers (who doesn't even teach her grade) teases her by calling Maxwell by a different wrong name every afternoon.  Another teacher regales us with stories about her Great Dane puppy who is very close to Maxwell's age.  Still another always comments about how the softness of Maxwell's puppy fur brings her back to her childhood of raising rabbits.

I'm not sure why I'm continually surprised by how remarkable of a dog he is.  He's been on this Earth less than 4 months, and he knows almost without fail the absolute best way to greet each new person he meets.  Gentle, or motionless, or boisterous with kisses, or patient, or adamantly insistent--he is almost never wrong.

From where does such wisdom spring?

I've been trying to figure out Maxwell's personality.  So far he's full of that happy-go-lucky enthusiasm that only a little boy puppy can pull off.  But lately he's really struck me with some glimpses of empathy that seem to denote an old soul underneath that goofy veneer.

Regardless, I love my remarkable, goofy, singular pup.

Denied

On Tuesdays and Thursdays Liam, our youngest at 4 years old, goes to a MDO program at a local church while his older sisters are in school.  It's pretty much Kindergarten Lite with a basic curriculum, play time, snack time, lunch time and rest time.  It starts an hour after and ends an hour before "real" school.  And it is a thriving program, so there are a great number of children, all under kindergarten age.

Given Maxwell's impeccable behavior the last few trips to Petsmart, (sitting on command, and then staying in a sit to greet new people) I thought my son's classmates might be the perfect next level.

It took me a few days to work my courage up to try it.  I mean, a 13.5 week old puppy and a horde of sweaty, squealing 3 & 4 year olds--what could possibly go wrong?

We pulled into the parking lot of the church, and Maxwell was pretty excited.  He was acutely aware that this was somewhere New, and could hardly wait to put nose to ground.  I got him out of the car and he did his "excited dance", prancing around and wiggling his butt faster than his tail can keep up.

It's remarkable how much this resembles the "potty dance" in toddlers, but I digress.

We struck off for the entrance with a purpose.  We were going to make people smile.

"Awwww," came the signal that we'd been spotted.  First customer in line was a tank of a 3 year old.  Belly hanging over the edge of the diaper sticking out of his waist band, he walked right up.

I had Maxwell sit, (he need a gentle tush push for his behind to actually contact the ground, but once he was there, he was money), while mom instructed the boy to be gentle and careful.  With serious eyes only a small child could muster and tongue sticking out in concentration, he very deliberately patted Maxwell on the head.  Maxwell lifted his nose, and gave the boy's forearm a lick. 

After this very sweet interaction, the little boy was done--mom mentioned as we moved on that he was "terrified" of dogs.

We then headed for the entrance.  As we neared the doors, I scooped Maxwell up and tucked him under my arm (getting harder to do now that he weighs so much) and headed for the hallway towards Liam's class.

It was then that he pounced.

This guy--he must be the facilities manager or something.  I call him the MDO bouncer (coined previous to this encounter).

"Excuse me! Sir? Sir! Sir!!," he barked.  "You can't take her in here!"

Now, I get it.  I really should have asked permission beforehand.  But honestly it didn't even cross my mind.

Dejected, we headed back out to the car.  Lucky for me it was very pleasant out, only in the low 60s.  I was able to leave my windows down 5 or 6 inches and Max had plenty of ventilation.  I dashed in and grabbed my son, praying the whole time that dog-nappers don't choose church parking lots to hang around.

So we went to Petsmart where at least we're welcome.

The employees there are starting to get to know us.  We got several, "Oh, he's getting so BIG!" comments today.

$35 worth of toys later, I think our my wounded pride was somewhat smoothed.

A Little Dog and His Boy

After last night's thunderstorms, we woke up to cool April showers.  It's in the 40s outside, but between Maxwell and my son cavorting in the backyard, you'd never know.

They make the ultimate team.  Maxwell digs the holes for the puddles and the rain fills them up.  Then my son dons his "fireman boots" and jumps in them, much to Maxwell's delight.

Of everyone in the house, Liam is the one I was most worried about adjusting to having a puppy.  He is only 4, and with an acquired nickname of Destructo, you might understand my reservations.

In the beginning, Liam was excited about the puppy coming home.  But soon after he seemed to lose interest a bit; it may have had something to do with those sharp puppy teeth.  And Liam, the smallest in our family and being nearest to Max in size, was often the target of those teeth as Maxwell engaged him in play as a litter mate.

However in just the last week the boys have really taken an interest in each other.  Liam loves to sit on the couch with Maxwell.  And it is the sweetest thing to watch Maxwell slow down and interact with Liam.  Where there were nips, and tugs, and snagged clothes before, things have given way to gentle play and snuggles.  Maxwell and Liam have now connected far and away more than any of the other kids.

Beautiful really.