I don’t like the little rumbles that sound like somebody is throwing marbles around on the floorboards of the sky.
Nor do I like those sharp cracks and I definitely do not like it when the Thunderdog howls and sets my little furry bod a quiver.
I can tell long before the clouds come or the rain starts that it is going to thunder.
I assume the position… like cowering under a table or the bed.
I was, however, vastly amused the other day.
Was lurking under the table next to the desk when the first rumble sounded.
That dastardly Ralph came skedaddling into the house, skidded on the rug and landed on Mom’s desk in a very un-cat like tangle.
One minute she was peacefully working and the next minute she was wearing a furry scarf.
In the process of trying to osmose into Mom he’d obviously edited the newsletter she was working on.
Mom howled.
Jeez! Ralphie! Off my laptop.
Ralph did not budge.
His whiskers were twitching and even I could see the mad look in his slitty eyes.
She heaved him off her laptop and gave him a cuddle.
Not you too Ralph?
One scaredy cat in this house is enough to handle.
He tried to stick his head under her arm.
Mom made oefff oefff noises.
That cat weighs 7kg you know. It’s him that should be on diet – not me.
She plonked him on the table next to her desk. Quick as a wink he was back. Papers and pens went spinning onto the floor.
Mom was quiet for a bit.
Then she stood up.
I’ll fetch your basket. She went off.
Oi! Wait. You can’t leave us here.
Ralph and I made a mad dash for the stairs too.
She called down from the top.
Stay! I’m coming back.
No ways!
We both flew up those stairs.
I forgot and took them two at a time until my legs failed me and I crunched into a step.
All for nothing, because Mom was on her way down with Ralph’s baskie.
She put it on the table next to her desk and squished him into it.
He was not amused.
He climbed out and gave her one of his special hairy eyeballs.
The ungrateful brat!
Then we all stopped to listen… the rain had finished and it was quiet.
