Thunder & Lightning

Photo Credit

 

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!"

Photo Credit

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 May Have Ruined Christmas...

Photo Credit

Maxwell is in that really cute stage where he's losing his puppy teeth.  I've heard all the stories about this stage--the gap toothed grins, the rows of shark teeth, the incessant mouthy behavior. 

Surprisingly, Max has been really good about mouthing.  Of course "good" is all relative.  He still puts his mouth on everything he can reach.  He still chews holes in his stuffie toys to extract the polyfil, and he has managed to destroy the edge of the carpet bordering the tile from the breakfast nook to the living room.  But he hasn't chewed holes in any walls. 

Or any small children.

I count us lucky on both regards.

I managed to save a couple of his baby teeth before they disappeared off into that mystical land of spare socks, paper clips, and lost marker lids.  Of course I hid them away under the edge of Maxwell's blanket in his crate when I put him to bed.

Just in case.

Photo Credit

So imagine my surprise when a bonafide ruckus broke out in the middle of the night.  Maxwell was barking his very best "I've-got-something-cornered-and-it's-probably-going-to-make-great-blog-fodder" bark.

By the time I got out into the living room, Maxwell was out of his crate, barking at the fireplace.  Judging by the white feathers strewn everywhere, (and the 30 lb canvas bag of dimes), it could only have been one thing. 

That's right. 

The tooth fairy. 

(Incidentally, did you know there's about $20 in a pound of dimes?)

My guess?  Maxwell thought someone was trying to steal his Kong.

Bad idea.

Anyway, this morning I found a letter on the fireplace mantel.  It read as follows:

To the Occupants of (redacted for Internet security).

It has come to our attention that you are harboring a vicious and/or dangerous animal as defined in Section 35.07b of the Fairytale Code:  "...a vicious and/or dangerous animal is defined as an animal that displays the intent to deliberately maim, harm, or otherwise injure a member of the International Union of Fairybook Characters for Children (IUFCC)..."

This notice is to inform you that attendance of observed holidays by IUFCC members is no longer guaranteed.  As defined in Section 41.07c-1 of the Fairytale Code, "IUFCC members shall make one good faith attempt to visit a home known to be harboring a vicious and/or dangerous animal, but shall not put themselves in a position to sustain injury."

IUFCC members include, but are not limited to Santa Claus, Elves, flying Reindeer, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Boogiemen, and Leprechauns.

A follow up inspection is scheduled for 2 weeks from the date of this notice.  If the vicious and/or dangerous animal is still on the premises, the IUFCC will have no choice but to enact Section 41.07c-1 as stated above, and designate permanent status as a IUFCC-unfriendly home.

Oh Maxwell.

Not sure what I'm going to tell the kids.

In other news: 

For Sale:  One Canvas Bag of Dimes.  Worth approximately $6000.  Will sell for cheap.

Never Underestimate the Power of a Puppy

Photo Credit 

Yesterday, in a fit of insanity whence I completely lost my gourd, I thought it would be a good idea to visit my kindergartner daughter at her school for Field Day...

...with Maxwell.

Before anyone gets really, really nervous, I'll tell you up front that nothing untoward happened on Maxwell's part. He was a perfect gentleman.

And I feel extraordinarily lucky to report that.

I really, really, really don't know what I was thinking. (Did I mention really?)

Well, I do. My thought process was that Emma loves Maxwell, and she's very proud of him. And she would love a chance to show him to her friends...

...and apparently the other 150 kids in her grade.

Really, really, really didn't think that all the way through.

At first we hung back from the group because Emma was participating in an event. But when she headed back to her spot on her beach towel she still hadn't noticed us, so I walked Max (on a very short leash) up to her.

He greeted her with a wet nose in the ear.

She squealed in delight, "Maaaax!"

And all bedlam broke loose.

We were mobbed by the entire kindergarten.

I commanded Maxwell to sit as the hordes came, and he obeyed like a champ. He sat and smiled and gave out wet kisses while 6-10 kids all pet him at the same time, jostling and pushing to get to him. I finally got some semblance of control of the situation and had them line up and take turns meeting him.

After that, I quickly refilled Emma's water bottles, and Maxwell, my son, and I beat a hasty retreat.

Aside from the stink-eye from the hula hoop relay lady (because up until the moment Maxwell arrived she had been the star attraction), there weren't really any repercussions.

And I am so very grateful to the heavens above for that.

Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!

Good boy, Maxwell.

Shenanigans

Remember the Great Toilet Paper Snake?

Well, you will not believe what Maxwell cornered in the kitchen yesterday.  For real this time.

I wasn't allowed to take a picture until I'd safely moved it outside.  So here it is on the front walk.

I'm almost certain this is a Rough Earth snake, a common, non-venomous snake found abundantly here in Texas that eats bugs, worms, and lizards.  He was 6 inches long, tops.

I think I'm going to write a story about Maxwell picking the winning lottery numbers next, and see if I can get that to come true too!

Ever have one of those Lassie moments?

You know the one, where Lassie senses the danger that everyone else just doesn't seem to pick up on?

Man, oh man, did Maxwell have one of those moments this evening.

When I got home from work, my wife tells me that Max has been going nuts trying to get into the kids bathroom.

Now don't be fooled, he loves to be in there because the kids trash has all kinds of delicacies; from snotty tissues to dirty Q-tips--and he is a Q-tip fiend! But as long as the door is shut, he pretty much ignores the bathroom altogether.

Not this evening.

Apparently he'd been scratching at the door, whining, fussing, the whole 9 yards--so much so that my wife ended up putting him outside.

I head into the bathroom and give a cursory glance around, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. I close the door and head out back to see Maxwell.

We do our normal happy-to-see-you-I-missed-you-and-I-thought-you-were-never-coming-home greeting and then head inside. Sure enough, he beelines straight for the bathroom door. So now I'm intrigued.

"What is his deal?" I think to myself.

Being the exceptionally bright man that I am, I went ahead and opened the door for him. He bolts in and immediately starts fussing at something between the sink cabinet and the toilet.

I flip on the light and try to get a good look at what's got him so bothered.

It's then that my heart stands completely still and gallops 100 miles per hour all at once.

There wedged up against the cabinet, in that little space left by the toilet, I see it. It's coiled up tightly--its business end swaying slightly as if in a gentle breeze. The diamond pattern along its length looks like sinister, deadly quilting.

Before I can even twitch, Maxwell lunges and somehow grabs hold of it without getting struck first.

I suddenly find my voice. I'm yelling "Drop it!" at Maxwell, but I'm not entirely sure that's the safest thing for him to do. I'm dancing around like a lunatic dressed in fire ants trying to find an opening where I can grab it away from him without getting hurt. I mean the two of them are a whirling dervish of fangs, teeth and growls--there's no way I can get my hands in there safely.

I can only imagine what that scene must have looked like from the outside.

By now Max has pulled one end of it out into the hallway, and this thing is huge. He's strung it from the cabinet to the doorway, and it just keeps coming.

Finally with his patented death shake, chunks are starting to come off, and it appears to stop moving.

I manage to get him to drop it, and good grief... We both just sat there panting.

It's then that the gravity of the situation washes over me. I mean at any moment my kids could have gone in there to use the bathroom and all the while it was lying wait. If they had reached their hand out...

Anyway, here's a couple pictures.

The aftermath, and the villain.

The hero of the hour.

Ok, well maybe I'm being a little over dramatic...

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.

Maxwell's Big Adventure

After a very exciting and well behaved trip to Petsmart the other day, I decided to broaden our horizons a bit and we headed out to a local walking trail/park.

When we got there we started down the trail practicing our sits to greet everyone and we were getting all kinds of attention. Max was soaking it up--the sun was shining, the breeze was cool, the birds were singing, the squirrels were playing...

And...enter that mom. You know which one I mean--the one pushing the fully loaded double stroller with three other kids under the age of 5 orbiting like drunken moons around a wobbly planet.

You know, "Tommy if you don't get your bottom back here so-help-me-I'm-gonna...!!!"

Yes. That one.

I see you know her.

I saw them before they saw us and started looking for an escape route--our options were ankle deep mud on one side, huge puddle on the other.

And then the next thing I knew, they were upon us.

"EeeeeeeEEEeee, a PUPPPY!!" one of the kids shrieked.

And then like a voracious band of jackals they surrounded us.

Briefly the thought flashed across my mind to unhook Max's leash so at least he had a fighting chance.

"Be free Maxwell, run like the wind, don't worry about me, save yourself!"

Actually Maxwell did amazingly well under the circumstances. He got between my legs and laid down, keeping calm, even as the monsters circled and pounced and squealed and sneezed, all the while breathing their putrid stink of destruction in our faces.

"Sorry about that," mom mumbled, "There's just so many of them..."

After several minutes the mom made some halfhearted attempts to drag the demons...err children away from us, so I went ahead and picked Maxwell up, and we made our escape, clinging to the frayed threads of our very lives...

And that was just the beginning.

Man it's a rough world out there!

Just sayin...

[This post made possible by the owner of a brace of unleashed Jack Russells ("They bite me if I try to put their leashes on..") and the City of Mansfield Dept of Parks & Rec whose spring mowing has converted all the winter windfall dead sticks into convenient puppy size bites.]

Here's a few photos from today, taken while we caught our breath before jumping back into the fray to head back to the car: