![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
When I took the trash out last night, I began to worry when I saw the silent streaks of lightning cut across the cloud-laden sky. I tried to ignore it, having gotten used o the extended dry spell, figuring that if it did rain, it would be only an intermittent drizzle, maybe a shower, nothing for the cats to worry about, who happened to be nowhere in sight.
A little more than an hour later, as I am winding down my late-evening reading session with Bonaventure and St. Francis, the sky seemed to shatter above us, letting in a violent storm of hailstones, like overshot barrages from the War of Angels. They must have been as big as baseballs, as hard as they crashed down, you might suffer a serious concussion if you went out and got struck in the head. I rush to the patio, but the cats are still nowhere to be seen.
Sleep obviously wasn’t going to be happening soon. About half an hour later, Father is the first to spot the cats, and I see Coco and one of the greys streaking across the patio. I am pleased to see that Coco has settled inside the bin that was always intended to be their refuge in a storm, but those were the days before they became indoor cats, and now I’d rather have them come inside if it’s possible.
I hope the old trick works. I step outside, leaving the sliding-door open, and I go after Coco, and she does run inside. When she comes in, she begins crying her head off, as though traumatized. The odds are good that she got clocked a time or two by one of those hail stones. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the grey cat is hiding, and the third cat is still lost out there in the storm.
At around midnight, I see Ash sitting by the sliding-door, but she only peeks inside when I open it. I have to step outside and pick her up, but she does not put up much of a fight. She has her share of feline pride but is sensible. There is still no sign of Sammy anywhere. I stay up a little longer, but I have to give up and try to get some sleep.
I actually fell asleep handily, guiltily. When I awoke at around two and got up for a bathroom run, I am anxious to take a look at the patio. In the kitchen, two cats are lying down together on the dining table. It is dark, and I assume that it must be Coco and Ash, but when I get closer, I am shocked and happy to see that it is the two greys. Sammy made it back, and even more stunning, Father got him inside. He later relates that he actually stepped out and carried him in. Sammy appears a little weather-beaten and wet, but all is well at this port in the storm, no casualties.
We weren’t suppose to have any pets after Bo, but these cats do add some excitement to my sleepy life, on top of whatever little affection cats are capable of sharing with mere humans - two legs bad!
A little more than an hour later, as I am winding down my late-evening reading session with Bonaventure and St. Francis, the sky seemed to shatter above us, letting in a violent storm of hailstones, like overshot barrages from the War of Angels. They must have been as big as baseballs, as hard as they crashed down, you might suffer a serious concussion if you went out and got struck in the head. I rush to the patio, but the cats are still nowhere to be seen.
Sleep obviously wasn’t going to be happening soon. About half an hour later, Father is the first to spot the cats, and I see Coco and one of the greys streaking across the patio. I am pleased to see that Coco has settled inside the bin that was always intended to be their refuge in a storm, but those were the days before they became indoor cats, and now I’d rather have them come inside if it’s possible.
I hope the old trick works. I step outside, leaving the sliding-door open, and I go after Coco, and she does run inside. When she comes in, she begins crying her head off, as though traumatized. The odds are good that she got clocked a time or two by one of those hail stones. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the grey cat is hiding, and the third cat is still lost out there in the storm.
At around midnight, I see Ash sitting by the sliding-door, but she only peeks inside when I open it. I have to step outside and pick her up, but she does not put up much of a fight. She has her share of feline pride but is sensible. There is still no sign of Sammy anywhere. I stay up a little longer, but I have to give up and try to get some sleep.
I actually fell asleep handily, guiltily. When I awoke at around two and got up for a bathroom run, I am anxious to take a look at the patio. In the kitchen, two cats are lying down together on the dining table. It is dark, and I assume that it must be Coco and Ash, but when I get closer, I am shocked and happy to see that it is the two greys. Sammy made it back, and even more stunning, Father got him inside. He later relates that he actually stepped out and carried him in. Sammy appears a little weather-beaten and wet, but all is well at this port in the storm, no casualties.
We weren’t suppose to have any pets after Bo, but these cats do add some excitement to my sleepy life, on top of whatever little affection cats are capable of sharing with mere humans - two legs bad!
