|Wind damage (at my office) from the storm|
During a late night storm last week, the personality of each of our pets became very obvious…
I was awakened around 2:00 a.m., although I’m still unclear what exactly awakened me; the sound of the hail hitting my bedroom window, or the face-melting heat from Maisy’s breath. Apparently the safest place for a ten-year-old rescue dog during a storm is on my pillow- never mind the fact that it is already occupied by my head. Maisy is the “needy” one.
Ralphie, the 20 pound cat was pacing by the bed. Once he realized someone with opposable thumbs capable of opening a can of cat food was awake, he decided 2:00 a.m. was as good a time as any to have breakfast. Also a thunder chicken & fearful of storms, he seemed to think a little food in his belly might calm his nerves. (Twice in the last week I have been startled into consciousness by the indescribable feeling of a large cat gnawing on my elbow as my arm hung off the side of the bed.) Ralphie is the “hungry” one.
And where, might you ask was Ron Burgundy, the youngest & smallest of the three?
He was downstairs, all by himself- front paws on the window sill, tiny nose against the glass, screaming at the storm. Ron Burgundy isn’t afraid of anything. Our very own little Lieutenant Dan in the crow’s nest, a la Forrest Gump…
“YOU CALL THIS A STORM?!?!?!?”