Americans Stand Ready — Kit Check for a Family of Three + One Dog

September is National Preparedness Month. The word from Ready.gov this year is Americans Stand Ready. That means you take care of your own house so help can go where help is scarce.

Walk this with a family of three. Husband. Wife. Daughter. One dog. One list. Not a scorecard. Just the kit, and why each thing earns its place.

Start with water. A gallon a person a day for drinking and washing. Ten days for three people plus the dog is not a slogan. It is the difference between staying home and leaving because the tap went dry. Store it. Date it. Rotate it.

Then food that does not need a fridge. Thirty days of what this family will actually eat, and a bag of dog food that matches the same clock. Hunger makes tempers short. Short tempers make bad decisions. Two manual can openers belong next to that food. Power dies. Electric openers die with it. One opener in the bin. One in the drawer. If the first one fails, dinner still happens.

Keep the phones alive. Three extra batteries or chargers—one for each person—because the call for help is useless if the battery is a black screen. A NOAA radio, battery or crank, is the voice when the towers are gone. Weather. Alerts. The official word. Extra batteries for that radio and for the flashlights are not clutter. They are the second night. Lights without cells are sticks.

Two flashlights, better with a headlamp in the mix. Hands free means you can hold a child, a dog leash, or a wrench. A whistle on each person is louder than a shout and lasts longer than a throat. If someone is under debris or just lost in the dark, sound carries.

A first aid kit is how a small cut stays a small cut. In an outage the clinic is slow and the road may be closed. Dust masks filter bad air—smoke, dust, the smell after a storm. Plastic sheeting and duct tape let you seal a room if the air outside is the problem and staying put is the plan.

Moist towelettes and garbage bags with ties are dignity. No water for a shower. No working toilet. You still have to live in the house. The bags line a bucket. The wipes keep hands clean enough that the first aid kit is not fighting you.

A non-sparking wrench or pliers is how you shut the gas or the water before a broken line becomes the next emergency. Paper maps of your town are how you move when the phone has no signal and the car GPS is a blank. You already know the roads. The map is for the roads you have never needed.

Now the second half of the same list. The part that makes it a household, not a display.

Prescriptions and spare glasses. Blood pressure pills. Daily meds. A week or two in a waterproof pouch. The pharmacy may be closed. The daughter’s contacts do not matter if she cannot see the stairs. The dog still eats. Pet food, water, leash, bowls, waste bags, and a copy of the shot record. That animal is family. Plan like it.

Copies of IDs, insurance, and bank records. Cash and coin. When the power is out, the card reader is out. When the house is damaged, you will prove who you are and what you owned. Paper in a dry sleeve saves months.

A printed first aid page or emergency sheet, because “I’ll look it up” needs a network. A sleeping bag or warm blanket for each person, and a pad for the dog. New Hampshire nights do not wait for the grid. A full change of clothes and sturdy shoes for each body. Wet socks and dress shoes are how people get hurt walking out.

A fire extinguisher you have actually looked at. A small kitchen fire during an outage is still a fire. Matches in a waterproof box, because wet matches are decoration. Hand sanitizer and whatever hygiene this house needs. Mess kits, paper plates, cups, utensils, towels. You can eat without burning through the water you stored for drinking. Paper and a pencil. Notes. Lists. A message on the door. The daughter may want a book or a deck of cards. Boredom in a dark house is not a luxury problem. It is stress with time on its hands.

This weekend, pull the bins and say the names as you touch them. Buy what is missing. Date what you keep. Put a whistle and a light where each person can grab them. Walk the dog on the kit leash. Run the radio until weather comes through.

Official guidance lives at ready.gov/kit. Keep the living list—what you have, how much, when you last looked—in DPO Ready Center - Community Edition at Data Protection Ops Ready Center. Then tell the rest of us what you found at Being Prepared.

Household. People and pets. The one item you always mean to add.

Stand ready. Say the list out loud. Then close it.