I’ve mentioned in previous posts about the eccentricity of the weather lately. Apparently, this odd behavior has rubbed off on the electrical power, since it seems to be coming and going as it pleases. Over the weekend, during yet another rainstorm, the power went out (again), plunging the house into a sticky blackness. I don’t mind the dark so much, as I can see better in it than most humans, but I still like a light on. However, the power wasn’t out overly long this time, and we all figured that everything was OK and we headed up to bed.
But it wasn’t OK. This time, Sump Pump, who lives in the corner room in the basement, went to sleep when the power went off, and did not wake up when the power came back on. Usually, we hear him growling, (he sounds a lot like Garage Door), but nobody noticed how quiet he was. It was late, the humans were tired and hot and just happy that the lights came back on, so off we trooped upstairs.
The next morning, Mom tried and tried to work the computer, and the page wasn’t loading. So she figured she’d go downstairs and reset the modem. Imagine her surprise when she got to the bottom of the stairs and landed nearly ankle-deep in water! Dad and Jamie weren’t home and didn’t answer their phones. Mom shooed me away from the basement steps and we waited.
Soon enough Dad and Jamie came home, and assessed the situation. Then the work began. Dad sloshed over and reset the pump. Jamie manned the ShopVac. Then the three humans started many, many, many, trips up and down two flights of stairs as they took out the ruined stuff to the curb. Dad cut up the wet carpet and the soaked padding, and the humans took everything out of the house in dripping, heavy bundles. They worked for almost 9 hours. I helped by picking up (what was now) garbage and ripping up damp padding in the places that weren’t completely submerged, looking for a dry place to lie down. I supervised everybody and made sure Dad kept cutting, cutting, cutting, and that Mom and Jamie kept hauling, hauling, hauling. Move that furniture! Carry those boxes! And so on.
I learned a new word from the humans. It rhymes with, “Duck”. And the Duckling Sump Pump.
There weren’t any ducks around, but a frog had climbed up through the sleeping Sump Pump and boy, he was a big one. Mom tried catching it in Tupperware, and actually had it at one time in a plastic Ziploc bag, but the frog made a ginormous leap with his long back legs and Pop! Right out of the bag. Mom dropped the bag and screamed. I ran through the puddles after the frog. Mom screamed again, “No frog legs, Maggie!” and the frog scurried under some shelving. Mom never did find him.
After all the work was done, Mom and Jamie could not straighten up. Dad could barely move. Finally, everyone creaked their way over to the bathroom and took showers. Then we ate. We had worked all day, and it was dark time now.
I wonder what will happen to the basement next? Maybe it will be a frog sanctuary.
Woof! Love, Maggie