Bitter Sweet Welcome Home

After escaping one of the worst winters in decades in Indiana we returned to the farm. In a haste we left before the school year was over to get the kids enrolled in their summer camps, and to get the hounds back to the country and hunting vermin where they belonged. They were ecstatic to get back to the smells of Hollywood Farm. Two days upon our return at 7pm, the tornado sirens started blaring. This was the first time in my 5 years of living on the farm that I've EVER heard the sirens. They didn't turned off after a minute, and this wasn't a Friday afternoon test. I received a text from a friend and neighbor, 'Welcome home! Get in the basement!" A week earlier Joplin MO was wiped off the map by a mile wide tornado. I brought the children to the basement and set up a cozy corner on the dank, damp 100 year old cement floor. (This house HAD to have been used as an underground railroad!) It took some coaxing, but the hounds were also in the basement, with a cozy pillow & snacks all to themselves. (Daddy was working in Hollywood doing what he does.) We stayed int he basement until I received clearance via text by a neighbor whose daughter is a meteorologist. We went on with our night, the Little's tucked away in the guest room, hounds on my bedroom floor, and a sleepless night of my peering out the windows in search of something that never appeared.

The next day...the severe thunderstorm alert texts began, this time they had the words, TORNADO warning included. The Little's, the hounds and I stayed indoors. ALL DAY!! At 5 o'clock I fed the hounds in their perceptive rooms then let them out to go potty. I saw Abbey trot across the back yard with her tail in the air, sure to find a great spot in the tall grass. Rounder was off in the other direction, I went indoors to feed the rest of the family. That was the last time I saw the hounds. Later that night, after screaming their names at the top of my lungs out every window of this farm house, I heard the tornado sirens going off again. S#%! F*%! DAMN!! Where are the hounds? WHERE ARE THE HOUNDS????!!! I stared at the car keys contemplating going out to look for them! We did not. We stayed in the basement for 4 hours that night. Buckling down waiting for the clearance text, and praying for our puppies.

Heart broken I'm unable to write the rest of the story, our dear friend and personal Dog Whisperer Maggie honored our hounds in her blog; http://maggiesdoggodstories.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-door-closes.html .

Please do me the favor in honoring the memory of our hounds,

BY CLICKING ON ONE OF THE AD'S AT

http://maggiesdoggodstories.blogspot.com/ ONCE A WEEK! PLEASE!!!!

Every click helps. They could use the support after all of the great work they've done rescuing, rehabilitating, and training animals.

Thank you Maggie and Larry, you helped the sting of the loss feel a little bit better.

Here is the damage caused by the storm that night 2 miles away.

A week later Rusty jumped out in front of my husband's car. Skin and bones, lacerated and bee bee shot. He hasn't left my sight since.