There's a New Sheriff in Town

“G” is for Gun? Really Indonesian playmat-making company?

Actually, this photo is kind of art imitating life. Miles is now fully aware of Stanley and is officially obsessed with him. Stanley has always been fully aware of Miles and now insists on 24-hour security protection.

We don't often get strangers at our house. But when we do, we know it by Stanley's aggressive and wholly obnoxious war cry. Everyone can hear him; very few people actually think to look down to find him.

Stanley has taken to prancing around like he's some kind of secret service agent. The truth, however, is that his guard dog skills are amateur at best. And that's being kind.

For starters, the dog has plenty to say about potential intruders but it's usually on a delay. A stranger can be in our house, sitting on the couch, enjoying a beverage before Stanley realizes it (read: wakes from his sun bathe in the backyard). And then, in an effort to make up for lost time, he goes bezerk, looking around to see if we've noticed that he hasn't been there the whole time. Basically, he’s a cartoon character.

For illustrative purposes, let’s take a look back at some of his finer security moments:

 

 

And finally, this moment: when Stanley demonstrated his idea of guerilla tactics... 

 

So you’ll forgive us if this sudden obligation to protect the family feels a bit out-of-nowhere and wholly late-to-the-game.

Nevertheless, it’s adorable to see Stanley really embrace Miles. This new-found tendency for overreaction reached a zenith recently when four young men came to the door wanting to sell us a new internet service. I didn't get Stanley on lock down fast enough and he came barreling toward the door, determined to guard his baby. Many Indonesians are terrified of dogs, including these poor kids. And that's when things fell apart.

One young man - not bothering to see the source of the commotion - took off down the street. He just booked it as fast as he could away from our house absolutely petrified of … Stanley. Stanley, all 15 pounds of him, took off after him, raising quite a stink. He chased that kid all the way down the block and then trotted home quite pleased with himself.

It was hard to suppress the laughter. Especially watching this poor guy realize how small the dog is and how mercilessly his buddies were dying of laughter. Oh Stanley. Turns out he's a shitty guard dog but he's great at keep solicitors away.

And Then the House Flooded

Worry not, dear readers. The blog is back. We've been busy doing many things including hosting guests, meetings Indonesian Orangutans and taking the Rainy Season head on. About that. Our house flooded last week. 

Just as we were deciding what movie to watch one evening, we noticed a lot of water on the floor. Like, a lot of water. Twirling around we realized our dining room was quickly becoming a swimming pool. Within about three minutes most of our kitchen and living room were covered as well. Within seven minutes the water was so high it was sweeping over our feet as we waded through it.

John Moyer, the fast-acting All Star that he is, quickly grabbed a broom and started sweeping water out the door. I, helpfully, put on a pair of crocs and started taking video.

"Can you please do something with the dog?" he prompted me. Stanley was busy trotting through the water whining that our house was FUCKING flooding. I considered leaving him at large on the grounds that he could be a good barometer for when things got really bad. You know you are in bad shape if your dachshund starts swimming through the house. But I locked him in the guest room and grabbed a dust pan to begin shoveling water.

Shoveling, in fact, is the right word here. It was a lot of water. We soon realized that a drain in the back patio was clogged and all the water running off the roof had collected until there was no where else for it to go except the inside of our house. While John set about clearing the drain and then aggressively sweeping water into it, I scooted around with my dust pan trying not to be too distracted by the unsettling rust color of the water now covering the floors.

We used whatever we could find to move water: dust pans, brooms, cutting boards. At one point I believe I saw someone using our dry erase board. Our housekeeper, Rini, produced what looked like a giant windshield wiper and began expertly sweeping water out. This was not her first time to this rodeo. There were four of us in all working in an assembly line to pass the water from one person to the next until it got pushed outside. After an hour of this insanity, we gained the upper hand and, despite the continued rain, we were no longer facing deluge.

The good news is that our floors are tile so there was no damage. Also, Miles slept through the whole ordeal.