Yesterday, an unexpected rumble of thunder sent Mew flying through the house to take shelter. You could hear her Velcro-cornering and Velcro-accelerating all the way. She's like a sports car: corners like she's on rails.
It's lucky for her there is carpet for most of the route, plus it''s a straight shot through the kitchen with no turns until she hits the carpet again. If I took corners like that, I'd have whiplash.
Sometimes she shelters at J's feet in a storm or sits halfway between us. This time, only a dark cave would do.
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The thunder is coming, the thunder is coming, run, run, seek shelter, may be a few thoughts Mew was thinking of as she was flying through the house.
She never comes to me for shelter. Ranger and J are her trusted buddies. I just sleep with her and that is forced. She'd rather stay out in the house.
You're being modest, Big Ed. I've seen you call out that it is her bed time and she rushes to beat you there.
That's because she has been trained to go to bed at ten o'clock each night. She also expects me to play with her each time she runs into my bedroom. In the end, who is training who.
What cave was she headed to? Watch the kittie and do as she does will keep you safe in a lightening storm. Unless you break a nail on the turns.
Yesterday, I went to visit Ranger and Big Ed. The black Chevy truck is awesome Big Ed. Four doors, huge cab, and nice interior. Zoom, zoom, beeeep.
She went somewhere in our bedroom. I doubt any of us would fit wherever she hid: under a bed with the storage boxes; the back of beyond in the closet. Maybe even Narnia, if she went deep enough. I wouldn't break just a nail, I'd break my neck on those turns.
Yes, and I want to keep the truck. Gratis, of course. I don't think so!
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