Three Dog Nights: A Pet Owner’s Reflections on a Natural Disaster

They said it was going to be the "Storm of the Decade." We had a half-gallon of milk, plenty of toilet paper and a third of a bag of dog food. I know how Western Kentucky winters go — it would be warm again in three days. My raised-in-New England self scoffed, and I refused to join the long lines at Krogers.

When the power went off, we moved the eight whippets and ourselves to our front guest room, which has a gas fireplace. I put every dog bed in the house on the floor in a semicircle in front of the fireplace. I piled blankets on top of the beds.

Very Old Dog, who will be 15 in April, was nestled in with us. Our dear young friends, Heather and Jason, were in our other front guest bedroom, also conveniently outfitted with another gas fireplace. With them were their own two whippets and their most adorable toddler, Ben.

Their whippets, Edgar and Emmett, consider this a second home. Emmett was born here, and both are frequent guests. And you haven't experienced cute until you hear Ben pronounce "Patience."

At first, our dogs displayed an understandable confusion. Clearly the Big Bed was for them, and the Rags on the Floor were for humans. I explained their error to them as I chased them off the bed, gave them their bedtime biscuit and covered each one in a toasty blanket. Their puzzled expressions made me wonder what were they thinking.



Even from my limited human perspective, life was upside down. It was so dark. No streetlamps glaring behind the curtains. No moon or stars. No passing headlights casting shadow cartoons on the ceilings. And before we had blown them out, the warm light from our candles had softened our features. The constant heart stopping crack! of huge limbs tearing off the tops of friendly old trees, followed by the whooshing shower of dislodged ice.

We squeezed our eyes, put our fingers in our ears and buried our heads in our covers, but nothing dulled the BOOM as those limbs dropped 60, 80 feet and landed on the ground or the roof or the lower branches.

The transformers all around the city were detonating, making the sky look like a lightening storm in blue. And then the huge pole at the corner fell. Later we learned that this pole carried the main line that takes power from the 3rd Street power station to all points west.

The transformers on the shorter poles all along our street exploded, one after another. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Huge showers of brilliant electric blue sparks filled our window view. And then the quiet of the storm. No traffic hum, no distant music from Fat Moe's, no TV. Just ice, sirens and crashing trees. I wondered what it smelled like to the dogs. All of that disaster.

Neighbors without gas logs hugged with their pets for warmth. Dogs who had never been allowed in bed snuggled under the covers and heated their grateful owners. People refused to go to shelters or even to neighbors' houses because they couldn't leave their animals.

Some dogs have coats that protect them from cold, but many others have coats that offer little or no protection, and can even make things worse for them.

Loving owners know this.

My dogs applauded my silly decision to avoid the lines at the grocery store before the storm. When their dog food ran out, they thoroughly enjoyed meals of rice, veggies and expired meat from our emptied freezers. They didn't complain when we went the longest time in our little history without a walk: five days.

All but two stayed on their spots in front of the fireplace. Young, foolish Swede William would periodically launch onto our bed, landing on a grumpy human stomach or head and get immediately launched right back onto the floor. But Sam, our Registered Therapy Dog, was smarter. He would ease onto the bed, smooth as lava, and melt into the circle of my stomach. I would wake with a smile, hugging my personal canine hot water bottle.

Now that the power is back, the sun is shining. And in typical Western Kentucky fashion, the temperature is in the 50s, and I send out a prayer.

Kodi, the newest family member of iList's own Nikki D.May, does his share to help clean up fallen branches. He also thanks Patience for the great name!

I know the good people did everything they possibly could for their families, their neighbors, their friends and their animals during this disaster. I pray that they are all well. That they are seeing the daffodils pushing up under the broken trees, and are hearing the songbirds trying to find each other.

I pray that Labradors are helping with the tree clean up, removing each branch tossed on the pile and trying to bring it back. That lap dogs are licking the tears when their owners survey the mess. That horses are whinnying warm welcomes as the barn doors creak open.

And that cats are leading by example, saying, "Oh who cares? I have a sunny spot by the window. Life is good."

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