Pono House

The heavy lump resting against my leg leaped from the bed and ran straight into the screen door, barking viciously. “What the hell is that stupid dog barking at” thinks I. I had foolishly trusted Sam to stay in his own bed, but some time in the night he snuck into ours. I looked around to ensure there were no axe murderers lurking. Nada. It doesn’t take much to fire up Sam, he’s been known to go into a startled barking frenzy over his own flatulence. Barking at 1:37 was not the way to remain in his favorite place. “off to bed you lunatic”–I directed him to his bed, erected the baby gate that ensures uninterrupted sleep, and wobbled back to bed.

I laid back, closed my eyes, and heard it “Slap, slap…slap followed by a long deep breath. YIKES. My scalp tingled. Perhaps there IS an axe murderer. I felt Diane go stiff besides me. “what the hell is that” she said. Diane’s general set of spousal expectations include my taking care of dead things, bugs, and things that go slap, slap…slap whooosh in the night. So I got up and went to the screen door that still had Sam’s nose mark on it. I listened intently, and finally recognized the sound–whale. Out in Uao Bay a whale was slapping it’s tail and blowing through it’s blowhole.

Marvelous.

I told Diane that our axe murderer was safely at sea, apologized to Sam (but didn’t let him back on the bed) and laid back, enjoying the sounds until I drifted off.

I had a conference call in the morning, so no reason to get up at 5:30 to go surf–as if there was any surf. I planned to sleep in, but at 6:30 the whale must have decided I’d slept enough. Wham, wham…wham, whooosh. Our axe murderer was still there and from the sound, either closer in or banging harder. I got up to see and there he was, directly below the house, very close in, banging away. When he or she paused in the banging I could see the whole body under the water. I decided I could probably sleep through this, headed back to bed.

And then the rooster kicke [...]

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