At the beginning of my senior year of high school my mom flew off to Hawaii to get my sister settled into college. I was happy to be home alone with the occasional check-in by her boyfriend. The forecasters announced a tropical depression before I went to bed. That morning they changed their tune completely. Super typhoon. Direct hit. I had four dogs at home and me. Then the power was out. The winds slammed the house so fast I only managed shutters on half of the house. Then the rain came. I heard a huge crash, so I ran into the living room. My feet sloshed through two inches of water. I looked outside. A small boat had flown into the back of my car. I turned around and finally noticed that the living room had flooded. I slid my feet over the wet marble, kicked water at the dogs in a playful gesture, and then froze. Their eyes were glued to the corner. I'd never seen them spooked until that moment. I stupidly tiptoed over to get a closer look and jumped back. The corner was dry as a bone. At the sound of whining I looked back at the dogs. In unison they were tracking something I couldn't see. First with their eyes, then their heads moved like some crazy choreographed dog dance. More whining, some whimpering by me, then actual ripples rolled down their backs in spastic body shudders. I wasn't kicking water around anymore that's for sure. I inched away from the freaky corner, but then the dogs yelped and raced into my room and jumped into my bed.