One evening when I returned from the market, I found inches of water on the floor, courtesy of a rain storm and those unholy holes. As I waded through the ankle-deep water, I grew frantic about a three-month-old puppy I had locked inside. I had just adopted her the day before, and I wanted to keep her inside to protect her from the village dogs while I was out.

She was so small! She was also still unsure on her feet. Could she have handled the rising waters?

I needn't have worried. The clever pup had clambered safely onto a chair. As soon as she saw me, she let out a joyful yap, jumped into the water and paddled towards me. Imagine that. The kid had never been in water before, but she fearlessly and instinctively moved through the water as if she had been swimming all her life.

When I came home from shopping last week, I met the same situation in my new townhouse - ankle-deep water on the ground floor, courtesy of an overloaded drain. As I splashed my way inside, I didn't worry about the cats at all, expecting them to have moved to the second floor as soon as the waters flooded in.

No. Malee and Yoyo were waiting for me on the sofa, staring at me in mute desperation. Malee clutched me in terror as I carried her to the stairs, releasing me only when we reached dry ground. I turned back for Yoyo, when I heard Pan-Pan's cry behind me, the hopeless shriek of a cat waiting to drown.

The poor boy had taken refuge in a pan under the stove. When the water seeped into the pan too, he had stayed where he was. He could have jumped out. The water only reached his belly, but he hadn't moved. Perhaps, like people I know, he hesitated between staying where he was and making that Great Leap into the unknown. I pulled him out and put him on the stairs. He ascended, dripping wet and moaning all the way.

Suddenly, I heard another sound, the splashes Yoyo was making as he leaned over from his perch on the sofa. His reach exceeded his grasp. Before I could get him, he lost his balance and fell in. His legs are long. He stood up, and with ears flattened against his head, splashed his way gloomily to the stairs.

Later, as I waited for the flood to recede, I discovered Yoyo's prey, a little guppy who had escaped from my neighbour's overflowing clay jar and ended up swimming in my house.

By the time I had returned the escapee to my neighbour, my two boys were already dry. Angel, the housemother, had cleaned Yoyo up. She was working on Pan-Pan, and Yoyo, with unexpected gentleness, was helping too.

Consider me much luckier than all the people and animals who face truly destructive floods.

Questions about your pets? Fax (02) 751 4446 or e-mail laurie@nationgroup.com.

By Laurie Rosenthal