I was snug in my little bed, the cool sheets beckoning me to stay a little while longer, but the sound was intense-- "scratch, scratch, scratch..." I opened my eyes just a crack and looked around my room-- the light glowing softly through the blinds suggested that it was around 6:30 on a Saturday morning. Ugh, I thought-- what in the heck could be making that sound and why in the world did this have to happen on a morning when I can usually sleep in and shrug off the demands of the work week?
I held still a few minutes longer and let my mind wander until suddenly the source of the sounds hit me-- OMG! It's the darn crabs!!!! I tossed the covers back amid the groaning protest of my little Boston Terrier, Luna, who had burrowed herself deep within the covers and set my feet down, hard, on the carpet. Rushing toward the source of the sound I found a crab nightmare-- the awesome Crab Home that I had carefully assembled just a few hours before, was laying on the ground-- sand tossed onto the carpet, my temporary Puggle visitor, Buster, hungrily gulping the special white sand that I was assured that I absolutely MUST have to ensure the survival of the little crustaceans. I frantically looked for Steve and George. They can't have gone very far I thought-- they move so slow!
I looked a few feet beyond the spilled sand and noticed two small shells, sitting placidly upon my ecru colored carpet. Steve and George! "Oh, sorry little guys," I cooed as I picked them up and scolded Buster. "Bad dog Buster," I said harshly "you're going outside!"
I opened the door leading to the backyard and shoed the heavy Puggle outside. Once the destroyer was out, I turned my attention to the crabs and their shamble of a once grand "Crabitat." Hmm, I thought, fortunately the enclosure wasn't cracked and could be reassembled without much more than a refill of the sand, a resoaking of their water sponge and putting the crab home on a more secure locale. Easy enough!
I reassembled the crab home, not as carefully this time-- I was frustrated, snapped the lid on the container and put it on top of my dining room table for the moment. I still wasn't sure where the safest location would be that would be free of the jaws of the crab destroyer, but was almost positive that there was no possible way that he could reach there. What little I knew.
In Southern Indiana we have a saying, "if you don't like the weather here, wait an hour-- it will change." We've been subject to crazy amounts of snow, strong winds and a deluge that made Niagara Falls seem like a trickle. It was one of those deluges that almost sent the crabs to their shell spirit in the sky.
I was out with friends one evening, not too far beyond the catastrophe with the crabs, having a great time, when a huge downpour started. I wasn't thinking a whole lot about it-- I had recently sealed some areas of my house, specifically a few spots in the concrete block of the basement walls and a spot on an outside gutter, that had experienced leaking from other downpours and was thinking that I was pretty safe. I took my time, finally leaving and driving home through flooded streets and downed tree limbs. I ran from my driveway to the backdoor-- dodging raindrops that seemed more like rain splashes and jamming my key into the lock. I was feeling pretty confident, I had made it inside without completely getting drenched and snapped my umbrella open to air dry on my linoleum kitchen floor. Ahh, I thought, I think the house is dry.
Just to be sure, however, I peeked through the doorway leading to the basement and was completely agast at what I saw. Not only a little water, but WATER, big freaking puddle/pond/lake water! There was a TON of it and it was still trickling in through a tiny hole under one of the basement stairs that I had neglected to seal. UGH!!! I knew I had to act and fast before the water breached the upper level of basement and poured to the next level which contained the water heater and furnace. Oh crap! I quickly grabbed my small utility pump that had been used so many times before, gathered up the length of garden hose that was still attached to the pump, ran it upstairs to the kitchen sink and secured the hose to the edge of the sink with duct tape. Oh yes, I'm so addicted to my friends Duct Tape and WD-40. I carefully, but very quickly, made my way back to the basement to plug the pump in and listened as it started up-- hungrily gurgling water up the hose to the kitchen sink and then back down the drain. I was completely ticked that the water had come in yet again, but so relieved that the water was being pumped out and that it wouldn't make it to the furnace or water heater.
Crisis in the basement averted, I thought of the upstairs ceiling that had allowed water to come in during the last downpour. I had spent an afternoon a few days prior sealing cracks in the outside guttering that I felt that had allowed water to come in. Surely it had held, right? I walked from my kitchen toward the small hallway that held the ceiling in question and I was stopped short by a sight that I noticed in my dining room. What the what?!
My house is a late 1880's bungalow that still holds some of its original gems. One of those gems are hardwood floors that were hiding beneath carpeting. I had refinished the floor in the dining room a few years back and it was upon this beautiful hardwood that I saw sand, lots of sand, sand strewn everywhere! What the what?!?! It was at that moment that I realized EXACTLY where the source of the sand had come from-- those crabs! Oh no. Where were the darn crabs this time?! I looked beyond the dining room to the guest bedroom that still had carpeting-- more sand. Oh shitake mushrooms! "BUSTER!!!!" I yelled.
The Puggle sheepishly sauntered his way from the kennel located in the master bedroom, underbite almost scraping the floor and he looked up at me with huge brown eyes and licked his chops. "NOOOOOO!!!! BAD DOG!!" I said, the sound echoing about the downpour that had started again outside. That's when I heard another sound, drip, drip, drip, drip. I turned my attention from the pica pup and looked in the small hallway-- MORE WATER!
The water was dripping, no, make that streaming, from the ceiling down the wall and to the hardwood floor in that area. "SON OF A BISCUIT (actually it was a stronger word-- trying to keep it family friendly here)!" I yelled. "WHAT THE HELLO?!?!?!"
Buster got lucky-- I had a new crisis that I had to attend to. SHOOT!!! I flung towels from the guest bathroom to the spot in the hallway to start sopping up the water and grabbed an empty kitty litter pail to try and catch some of the water before it made it to the floor. Was this real?! What in the heck did I do to deserve this?!?! I was on full blown 'protect the house at all costs' mode-- no matter how long it took I had to defend it against the raging water that was trying to seep in.
In between moving towels, emptying buckets and cussing at the poor Puggle, I frantically searched for Steve and George. I looked beneath every bed, in every corner, under every piece of furniture. They were gone. Gone to the depths of the dog's bulging belly. I couldn't believe that they'd met such a demise nor did I have a clue that dogs would eat hermit crabs! Oh well, though, I thought, no matter-- I had to try and salvage what was left of my house and to heck with the crazy things.
The water continued to pour in until the rain finally stopped, around 1:00AM. I was beat and frustrated. My house was water logged, my carpet and floor were a sandy mess and my two crabs were gone. I was done, it was time to just sleep and hopefully wake up from this nightmare.
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