Live from Bridgeport NJ

We're at the hotel, relaxing after a fun day of agility.  Given the events of the past couple of weeks, we haven't run agility in close to a month.  

Marge picked up her 15th Excellent B Jumpers Q for 4 points.  Her Standard run was nice, but I sent her off course.  Arrow had a bar down and an off course in Standard, and weave pole issues in Jumpers.  But, all things considered, both dogs ran very well.

We were supposed to trial last weekend, but the trial was cancelled because of the storm.

Here's to a pair of QQs tomorrow! (Or, if I'm not being greedy, a Jumpers Q for Arrow and a Standard Q for Marge!)

How MargeDog Did

I have to say that Marge was an absolute trooper during the confusion of Hurricane Sandy.  In fact, despite the fact that the storm was much more severe than Hurricane Irene, and much more tumultuous (leaving the house with the storm surge rushing up your block is certainly enough to set a fearful dog off) than anything Marge has ever experienced in my household, I was really surprised at how well behaved she was.

Contrary to popular belief, Marge was NOT a Katrina dog (she was born in 2007), so I'm not sure she's ever experienced anything like this before.

Marge definitely knew something was up in the day or so before the storm.  She had that nervous look about her and seemed to watch my movements closely.  However, even once the wind started to roar, she was relatively calm.  She enjoyed a few romps on the beach on Sunday and Monday and didn't appear nervous at all.

She did nearly have a heart attack when we threw her in my dad's hatchback car and she rode with me in the trunk as we escaped the high tide, but that's to be expected.  She settled down once we arrived at my grandma's dark house, though I kept her on a leash to be sure I knew where she was at all times.

Most importantly, once we returned home, she responded very favorably to the visitors coming and going from my house in the wake of the storm.  One neighbor who had her house completely destroyed stayed at my house for several hours, and Marge was nothing but hospitable towards her. (We did put her away when folks like the National Guard rang my doorbell, though, because I knew she wouldn't take kindly to men in uniform.  It's all about setting up for success.)

My friends stopped by to check on me, too, and she greeted them with only a few hackles and mostly swooping, happy tail wags.

The one thing that did make her really nervous was walking past the front-loaders that were taking garbage away from a nearby block.  But, she recovered quickly, and a few minutes later, ran some zoomies in a successful attempt to burn off the stress she just experienced.

So, she may not be perfect.. but she's pretty darn close!

Staten Island Strong

New Dorp Beach, 2009

The beach we would so frequently sit on is busy with debris, yet at the very same time, left barren from the immense erosion of sand.

The field we would so frequently run in is now being used as a base for the National Guard, the American Red Cross, FEMA, and countless other relief groups.  The neighborhood blocks we would so frequently walk down have been left impassable by the endless bags of garbage - the content of people's homes, destroyed by the ocean, now left at the curb, sopping wet.  Helicopters fly in the skies overhead, starting as early as 7 AM and continuing in to the dark hours of the evening.  Cars line the roads, but most of them are not moving - some fell prey to the storm, others sit idle in a line for gas that stretches nearly a mile.  The roads are street corners are packed full with volunteers, donated clothing, spectators, residents, and the NYPD.

It's bad here.  It's really, really bad here.

Hurricane Sandy has absolutely ravaged my neighborhood.

Those who doubted this storm, those who thought the media was overhyping this storm, were proven very wrong.  Hurricane Irene, which did far more inland damage than it did coastal damage, lulled many people in our beach community in to a false sense of comfort.

Including my family.

In fact, we figured that since my grandma's house always loses power, that we'd bring her to OUR house, a half mile from the beach and in NYC's "Zone A" rather that pack up and go to her house, which is 60 feet or so above sea level, on a hill.

We were smart about one thing, though, and did have things packed up in case we had to leave at the last minute.

Aaaand.. we DID leave at the last minute.

Social media began to buzz after 7 PM on Monday night with reports of the storm surge starting to reach roads and residences.  I found out that a nearby block was under water through Facebook, and the local online news said that people were being rescued off of rooftops just 5 blocks away.

It didn't feel real until I looked out the window and saw what looked like the end of the world - the sky lighting up from transformers exploding, and a mass exodus of cars away from the streets nearer to the beach and closer to higher ground.  Police sirens blared as loud as the wind was blowing.

The final straw was when the water began pouring up my block.  I saw it between my block and the next out on the main road, and that is when I knew that we had to leave.

So, we very quickly packed up a family of four, an 80 - year old grandma, and a cat and a dog in to my dad's crossover, which he conveniently backed up on to my front lawn to avoid the floodwaters, and he drove us to higher ground.

In retrospect, it was a little stupid for us to leave, since it was entirely possible that we would not be able to get out of my neighborhood, and then would have been trapped in the floodwaters.  But, we made it to my grandma's dry, albeit pitch black, house.  My sister, the pets, and I spent the night in my grandma's spare bedroom, on the floor, listening to the wind howl, sandwiched between several layers of blankets.

Fast forward to Tuesday, when I finally arrived home.  The ocean water somehow skipped over my house and stopped dead on my front lawn. We had some damage in the basement from the sewers backing up and spewing filth all over the basement floor.  Some stuff got ruined, but nothing terribly substantial.  Nothing like the devastation experienced elsewhere in my neighborhood.  We were very lucky.

Since I arrived home after dark on Tuesday, I didn't get out to see my community until Wednesday.  It was like a movie.  Literally everyone I knew from my neighborhood was affected in some way.

There doesn't feel like there's an end in sight right now, though I know things will get better.  Already people here have made tremendous progress clearing out their houses, and Sanitation has been doing their best to get the garbage off of our streets.

I've never been one to be ashamed of the fact that I'm from Staten Island, the way some people are.  I've lived here my entire life, in this little house in New Dorp Beach, so one would hope that I like the place! But this week, I'm truly proud to be a Staten Islander.  The support people are giving to one another is amazing and will, no doubt, help us get through this time a little bit easier.