Going to the dogs

January is quite pleasant at the house we’ve rented since 2013, in the Florida town where we’ve wintered since 2005, which had been hurricane-free from 1950 until Ian (2022), Idalia (2023), Helene and Milton (2024).

The first week of December, the contractor said, “The upstairs is fine. Come on down.”

“What about the water heater?”, said I.

No water heater. No washer or dryer. The bottom-level garage, which had been 5 feet under water, was in process of drywall finishing. The yard had washed out during a storm surge, undermining exterior walks and patios. The pool was still full of grunge. The status of the pool heater was unknown.

And so forth. But we could still come down, if we wanted, and supervise three months of construction as an agent for the owner.

Meanwhile, in Southern Indiana where it is very cold, we have a 9-week-old male chihuahua/beagle puppy learning the ropes from our 2-year-old male dachshund/beagle/minpin, who sleeps in the bed with us because this is the way of his people.

And so sleeping with the big dogs is now the way of Bruno the puppy, who cannot hold his bladder all night the way Ernie can. Yes, we tried the kennel. No, Bruno did not stop wailing, not ever, as near as we could tell.

If all was as it should be, I’d be taking the boys for a walk every morning at 3:00 AM, on a patio facing the bay, where it is at this moment 54 degrees F.

But no. This morning, I took Bruno to a pee-pad in the kitchen, where he was a very good boy. Five minutes later, Ernie jumped out of bed, and Linda said, “I hope he doesn’t poop in the kitchen.”

A reasonable apprehension, under the circumstances.

To his credit, all Ernie did was hike his leg on an antique Chinese lacquered stool because, hey, Bruno can go in the house, why shouldn’t he?

As of yesterday, there is still no water heater at the winter venue, and there won’t be until after a crew gets around to painting the garage floor.

It’s nobody’s fault. Florida took a real beating last year. Contractors are overwhelmed. Half our neighbors there are not coming back. If we had invested in our own place, things would be a lot worse for us. We’re counting our blessings.