This past Saturday my daughter Angela, feeling sick, slept downstairs on the couch. In the morning, she informed me that our 6-month-old dog had bitten her foot—her big toe to be precise—during the night.

An initial inspection seemed to confirm, that indeed, some act of violence had been perpetrated against her person. Dried blood was smeared in the troubled area. She testified to having seen the dog’s mouth still upon her foot when she woke.

Except for what seemed like the most obvious evidence ever presented, with an eyewitness to boot, I would have not believed it.

I struggled to imagine why this very peaceful, loving pup would thus turn savage during the night past.

Well, you know what?  Turns out, things are not always as they seem. The evidence lied. What? Yes!

Upon cleaning the affected area, all that remained was a partially opened blood blister.

With the revised view of the situation, and a few moments of re-reflection, we surmised what really happened.

Turns out, my daughter had gained a blister the previous day at basketball. And as it had begun to open, our dog found it and began to lick the wound, administering the only healing balm she knew how.

That’s a lot like roofing.

As we open up roofs, we find types of blood blisters formed by previous bad roofing work.

And it seems like we are the cause and culprit when, in fact, we are only finding and addressing the injury to make it whole once again.

Who do you know that needs the medicine man of roofing industry to solve problems that surely exist, but will remain unknown and never properly addressed by others?

Have them call William C Rott to shield their home.

– Steve Rott

My wife came in the house Saturday afternoon. She whispered squeamishly that she had come upon a squirrel, who appeared to be expiring in our driveway. I went outside and found a shivering, wet, and immobile little squirrel.  The poor thing lying helpless on its side. For pity’s sake, my wife thought asphyxiation would be the thing, offering to fetch a plastic bag. Even though she was probably right, I choose to err on the side of, ‘you never know’. What can I say… I don’t possess the Kevorkian gene.

So instead, we scooped him into a cardboard box, and wrapped him in a towel. It looked more than a little bleak, but he seemed to appreciate his last rights care. I checked on him a couple times, without hope. Upon the third inspection, he was up right, seemingly dry, and alert. He seems to have recovered and was very excited over our garage and care.

Similarly people may have a roof that seems to be breathing it’s last breath. Leaking more fluids than an expiring tree rodent. Others may write it off and recommend a plastic bag, but it’s not uncommon for us to save what appears lost.

That squirrel’s recovery was possible due to an answered prayer. A reminder that it is always worth a little more investigation. Now I smile when I hear the rustling tree branches around our home, a nostalgic reminder of rodent repair. A squirrely lesson to never give up.

When school started last month, three of my kids were about to catch the bus for Ledgeview elementary. As it was Nathans first day of kindergarten, my wife’s baby; tears were sure to come. It promised to be a memorable send off. Pictures were taken, hugs and kisses were lavished upon the soon to embark.

All was perfect, that is, until a certain 2 year old shiatsu decided to dart across the busy, very busy, Goodrich rd., to say hello to a passing Rottweiler. I darted close behind him, holding up hands, hoping the speeding cars would recognize my authority to stop the forces of nature, and laws of physics. Well, call it luck, or providence, I’m just thankful the memory of a squashed family pet was not the one that launched this year’s first day of school.

Similarly, as people get ready to embark on the journey of getting a roof; they have all their ducks getting lined up to board that roofing bus when suddenly, the cheap price squirrel comes darting across their path, drawing them into the low quality, oncoming traffic, where things probably won’t end as well as it did for my kids and our impetuous pooch.
Steve Rott – Wm. C Rott, Shield your home.