Monday, 18 November 2013

Woman drowns, dog describes the water

At about 4 this morning, I woke up and Finnigan was standing on my head. I moved his paw from my face and tried to make him get off the bed, so he crawled on top of me.
An 80 pound black lab is a hard boulder to move. Was Sophie under him?
After several tries, I got him to roll over. We began to spoon as he lay his big stupid head on my bladder.
Okay, okay, he wants out, I thought.
I looked at Scott who wasn't much help and staggered to my feet.
Finnigan bounded off the bed and outside into a ridiculous windstorm that was churning in the yard like a mini-duster. He went to the end of the yard and just stood there, inanimate for fifteen minutes. He peed, then came in, but wouldn't leave the front hall way.
I realized how deeply he had been affected by the television we had been watching.
Get yourself to a sheltered area at the lowest part of your house.
Which was exactly what he was doing. He just looked at me.
What?
You hear about dogs who save their masters from certain death. They risk their lives to drag them out from under debris. They grab their collars and swim them to shore.
Finnigan isn't that kind of dog.
Finnigan would simply save himself.

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