Hurricane Moe?

I had battened down the hatches in anticipation of Hurricane Moe.

For days I meticulously dog-proofed my house as I would for a puppy in preparation for this unknown rescue dog who would soon become my new roommate. I surveyed the house for potential problems to keep him out of harm’s way.

My great-grandmother’s fragile antique lamps were quickly removed and replaced by sturdy, easily replaceable affordable lamps. All breakables within wagging tail range were stored away or moved to higher ground.

Strict orders were instituted for Hersh. Shoes, slippers, and rogue socks were now banned from the bedroom floor, in anticipation of a nervous chewer.

Eyeing my own cluttered office, vulnerable collectibles and stacks of paper were placed far out of reach. My childhood puppets that are displayed in an old hollowed-out Mahogany Emerson TV set were a red flag ripe for the picking. Just at Moe’s eye level,  these vintage plastic and cloth toys would be a perfect, lip-smackin’ snack for any lab. They were swiftly boarded up behind an impenetrable barricade.

I was certain my home was ready for the hurricane that might soon descend- a rambunctious, anxious, 2 ½ year old dog from down south who had just been through a whole lot of life changes in his short life.

Well, like so many of our weather forecasters, this warning was a bust.

All Clear

There was no hurricane, nor’ easter, not even a drizzle. The skies have been sunny and calm.

Moe mosey’s through the house like the true Southern gentleman he is with impeccable manners.

He is gentle and polite as though he has lived here forever. Not tempted by rolled-up tissues that lie untouched on night tables, nor wastebaskets remain on the floor filled with Kleenex and cotton balls.  No begging, no chewing, no jumping, no counter surfing.  This dog doesn’t even eat crumbs off the floor.

That said, as the daughter of a weatherman, I know a storm could always appear out of nowhere, so measures remain in place.