Surviving Ian With My Neurotic Pup
She is not taking displacement well
My wife left town last week to visit relatives in our home state. As she was flying out of Tampa, I got a notification on my phone that Tropical Depression 9 was forming in the Atlantic.
I shrugged, shoved my phone back in my pocket, and turned the car toward home.
“That may end up sucking for someone in a week or so,” I thought.
We got the evacuation order to get the hell out of Tampa yesterday morning. I kind of figured it was coming, so I had already begun preparing the house for that eventuality.
Sandbags? Check. Unplug major appliances? Check. Put away patio furniture and grill? Check. Bring in the potted plants? Check. Pack and load the car? Check.
Prepare my neurotic pup for indefinite displacement? Uh…
Olive was already out of sorts thanks to my wife being gone. She is well-acquainted with the drive from our house to the airport, but it’s usually me that’s leaving town. Frequently, at that.
“But Momma? She never goes anywhere without me!”
This dog is my wife’s second ass. Anywhere she goes in the house, she can turn around and find this cute-but-codependent shadow right behind her.
With her gone on a trip, at least Olive had familiar surroundings to somewhat calm her nerves and preserve a sense of normalcy.
Enter Ian.
Once I was ordered to leave my home — which was a true order since it’s on a military base — I had just a few hours to halfway fortify my house, pack us up, and make a snap decision about which direction to head.
I ultimately decided we would go east to Orlando, which turned out to be a very popular choice for my fellow Bay-area refugees. The 75-mile drive took nearly three hours. Olive, ever confused, whined in the back seat and paced nervously from window to window as we forged on, bumper to bumper, through the dark of night.
Wife is in Arkansas, Olive and I are in Orlando, and Ian is on his way. We still aren’t certain what the exact path of this storm will be, but the latest models show it turning slightly east, which will mean landfall slightly south of Tampa rather than the dead-on hit that appeared imminent yesterday.
Either way, Olive and I will get a fairly stiff shot of at least tropical storm-force winds, even this far away from the Gulf coast. She doesn’t handle ordinary thunderstorms well, so I can only imagine what this will be like once Ian barges in with impunity. We may or may not lose power, but at least we will be safe.
My house is on the little peninsula separating Hillsborough Bay and Tampa Bay, and storm surge predictions range from 5–12 feet, depending on which meteorologist I’m listening to.
We’re good for now, but I have no idea what next week will bring. I may end up temporarily homeless, but really, home is where my family is.
Even in our circumstance, I still pray for all in Florida who will certainly be affected in some way by this storm.
As for Olive, don’t worry. She has her daddy to keep her safe. I have her to keep me busy.
