It was 13 years ago that my chocolate lab Jake burned our house half down. I'm seeing some similarities in this Weimaraner that we now own and wonder if they communicate telepathically..."Do it again! Do it again!"
Courtney was just over a year old. I received a phone call from my step-dad that my mother was being admitted to the hospital and I could come up if I wanted to see her before surgery. I panicked and rushed around, dog-proofing the house before I grabbed Courtney to run out the door. I put up baby gates to keep Jake, 4 months old, in the kitchen. He always, always, always tipped over the garbage can. I stared at the can, quickly pondered, and mindlessly plopped it on top of the stove before walking out the door, because he could NEVER reach it up there, right?
Fast forward to the hospital room, where my mom is in pre-op and miserable. The nurse is trying repeatedly to get the I.V. started. Courtney is a little antsy and I'm trying to keep her quiet. The bedside phone rings, the nurse grabs it, looks at me and asks, "Are you Amy?" It's my sister and this is what she says: "Umm, I don't want you to panic, but your house is on fire."
The drive home was a mental battle. "Go fast, wait Courtney is in the car, take your time. Don't take your time, your house is on fire you fool! Okay it's just a house, slow down." What am I gonna do anyway, charge in there with a garden hose? I turned down my dead-end street to about five flashing engines and several police cars. Side note: We learned the carbon monoxide detector did indeed work. Everybody should have one.
They suspected that the dog jumped at the gas stove, which had the knobs on front, and clicked one on with his paw, lighting up something on the stove, no idea what (insert innocent bug-eye look). They knew this because when the department arrived, the burner knob was still in the 'light' position and clicking. My neighbor had been taking a walk, looked through my front window, and saw my kitchen engulfed in a giant flame. Good thing I'd left the curtain open. She was able to open the side door and shoo out the dog. The worst part of this story is that I had to live with my (ex) in-laws for five weeks. The insurance company ruled it negligence and dropped our policy after repairing $25,000 in damages. The good news is that in the end, it increased the value significantly and we made a nice profit when we sold. It still wasn't worth five weeks of in-laws though.
This story came to mind today because recently my dog has been jumping on the windows and curtains, pulling down an electric candle I have on the sill that automatically lights up at night. If it falls while on, the bulb is hot and lays on the curtain and carpet. Of course I'm stubborn and refuse to conform to this stupid dog and insist he will conform to this house instead, so I will not just unplug and remove the candle. I put adhesive on the windowsill. I put a blanket rack in front of the window. This is MY house and MY windowsill. Except the other day Mackenzie pointed out, "That bulb gets hot and he keeps knocking it over. He's gonna catch the house on fire one of these days." Please not again.
