I wanted to bring home some flowers for Ganesh Chaturthi after a long, hot spell. It was the least I could do for the elephant-headed god, and I knew the flowers would last longer in the cooler temperatures. I chose a warm color palette of dominant reds and auspicious turmeric yellow for Lord Ganesh, with some greens for contrast. From my usual local flower vendor, I picked up marigolds, lisianthus, carnations, upright amaranthus, a Monstera leaf, and a few stalks of Italian ruscus.

I didn't have a particular theme in mind for the arrangement, so I simply placed the flowers in assorted vases that complemented their natural shape and fall. The flowers lasted for a good week. The marigolds, in particular, could have lasted even longer if not for the green worms that crawled out in a multitude from the vase in the library one morning. Yikes!

I yelped, and my puppy barked in support of my panic. That arrangement went straight into the trash. With hawk-like eyes, I squashed the rest of the crawling beasts and even used the vacuum cleaner to bolster my efforts to keep the creatures away from our books. But in doing all this, I underestimated my dog’s senses for detecting scent and motion. Chaos, my eight-pound pup, was now in serious business, adding another line of defense to my war on worms for a day or so.

The morning after I dumped the library flowers, Chaos and I were resting on the couch. He was enjoying his afternoon siesta, and I was giving him company, as is often the case. Suddenly, he woke up and started furtively pacing on the couch, looking down. I couldn't follow his dog-thought or behavior. I thought he was having a bad dream, but he repeatedly pointed me to the carpet. I stared hard. On the gray-green carpet, I saw a green, centimeter-long, slender caterpillar crawling. I’m not sure where it was going with such speed and effort, but I killed it. Anything with more than four legs dies; this has been my motto since I lived in the country, where I regularly saw magnificent, unwanted, creepy-crawly bugs, big and small. I'm glad my instinct to kill bugs was revived just in time.

Unfortunately, over the next day or so, I dumped all the flowers. I naively thought cleaning the water and soaking the surviving flowers would help. Alas, that was not the case.

That evening, another caterpillar appeared as we were eating dinner, upholding our great tradition of eating in front of the TV. Chaos, resting by my feet, calmly woke up, went over to my husband’s feet, and excitedly pointed to something with his eyes. My husband thought the dog wanted attention, but by then, I knew better about my pup’s curious fascination with the worms. I killed another worm that evening (my husband refuses to kill anything he doesn't eat), and the rest of the flowers saw the trash bin.

The events of the day got me thinking. My dog has been phenomenal at detecting things we're oblivious to. His arch-nemesis is a housefly, which NYC has no dearth of. Though he's afraid of them, he’ll unmistakably look at me with panic-filled eyes as a flying monster chases his tail. He often hides in his crate, his safe place, because he thinks the fly can't get to him in there. I hate to break the bad news to him. I always triumphantly kill the fly with an electric swatter in a few hours, with a victory cry. Chaos then understands the crisis has been averted.

Then there was an isolated incident with a flying cockroach. We were indulging in our great TV-watching tradition again when Chaos started barking. No more of those curious, excited looks or panic-filled eyes. This was a frank, alert, aroused bark at the flying dinosaur that had crept by the wall, unbeknownst to us.

I was in a full-blown panic. I hate cockroaches. I once wrote a love letter to my then-beau about just how much I hated them. My husband jumped up, seeing me and Chaos in distress. He was armed with a slipper, but at that inopportune moment, his brain reminded him of his motto of not killing anything he doesn't eat. He deftly opened a window and (to my absolute horror) directed the flying dinosaur out. Crisis averted, but the monster lives to this day, no thanks to my husband.

I have grudgingly come to realize that while plants and flowers make a home feel warm, lively, and welcoming, they can often invite unwanted guests. I have also concluded that having a pet who can detect such guests is a huge help in eradicating pests and continuing to indulge in romantic floral arrangements.