So we had a very exciting Sunday morning.
Man-dad and H-mom decided to go out for breakfast on the motorcycle, which was fine because Madison had already enjoyed a two-hour romp and swim at the dog park. Her usual X-treme Bitey Face and Zoomie-racing had her tired out, and she was more than content to konk out next to the teen-human's bed.
Teen-humans, and especially OUR teen-human, don't usually rise before 1 or so on a sleepy Sunday. And Madison was all in for a companionable sleepy Sunday.
At about 10:30 am, though, there was a terrible noise. Sirens started ringing through the building, down the hallway. And an awful blonking warning buzzer was going off in our condo.
The teen-human rolled over. Annoyed. This has happened before, and it usually stops, with no action needed. Certainly no getting-out-of-bed-on-Sunday-morning kind of action.
After about 15 minutes, the fish in the dining room starting making stern statements:
"All residents, exit the building. This is not a drill. All residents, exit the building immediately."
This was very strange coming from Man-dad's dolphin. Madison was confused.
(See the intercom speaker conveniently hidden behind the giant blue trophy?)
The teen-human got out of bed, pulled on some sweats, hooked on Madison's leash and pulled her into the hallway.
Now the hallway is very long, and we live on the 19th floor. The fire doors were closed, the emergency lights flashing, and the sirens blaring. It was all quite frightening, actually.
Everyone knows that in an exit emergency, you follow the EXIT signs and head down the stairs.
Well, Madison is an elevator girl. The emergency stairs are down the hallway, in a direction that we don't usually take, through two frightening and heavy fire-proof doors, and into an industrial stairwell. They are made out of metal, and the noise from all the people stomping down them was terrible. They vibrate and feel particularly strange.
Madison tucked her little tail stub in and tried to crawl into the corner.
Then Madison dug her paws in and refused to move.
The teen-human tried to pick her up, but Madison weighs about 55 pounds now, and the teen-human is only a little more than twice that. So the teen-human coaxed Madison, stair by stair by stair, down 1/2 a flight, and then another 1/2 a flight. Then down the next 1/2 flight. Imagine the noise and the flashing lights.
Teen-human managed to get Madison safely to the 11th floor -- down 8 flights of red metal stairs, with lights flashing and sirens blaring - when suddenly there was calm.
The lights stopped. The noise ceased. Announcements were finished.
The fire emergency evaporated.
So the teen-human exited the stairwell on the 11th floor, rode the elevator with Madison back UP to 19, and got back in bed.
We have a few observations:
1) Teen-human didn't even HESITATE to take Madison with in the escape from the building.
2) Search and Rescue dogs brave enough to do high-rise disaster work (and our little emergency was nothing on the scale of FRIGHTENING) are incredible, brave and astounding animals. We can't even begin to imagine their nerves of steel and resolve to work in crises. It makes H-Mom all teary, just because that is how she is.
3) It is very strange to have announcements coming from the dolphin.