The Storm

A snippet that might be worked into a project. Done for a community I belong to and inspired by a picture there.

I knew the storm was coming. I had known for days. The deep ache in my joints that would ride my nerves to a near tsunami strength explosion of frenzied prepping... something that also drove the pain to nearly unbearable levels. I'd warned them, but all I got was eye rolls as folks flexed their own joints, testing for pain and then proclaiming they had arthritis too and no storm was coming.

I'd heard the whispers... 'oh, she's crying wolf again'... not my fault my gift for predicting storms couldn't give accurate details about the ferocity, but I was no longer joined in the storm bunker anymore when my body screamed for me to get to safety. Maybe they were right, but oddly enough I was never alone in that shelter... the barn cats and several neighborhood dogs would come to some sort of temporary truce and one by one, they would make their way into the shelter. Soon, as I kept updated stock on the shelves, there was only enough food for one person (me), but tons of kibble and wet dog and cat food and bags of treats with water for all of us. The first aid kit contents were also adjusted accordingly.

My own arrival at the shelter on this day was a little late, and there was already my 'pack' of dogs and cats milling around steps that led down into the storm bunker. The clouds had already started to darken the afternoon sky as I quickly unloaded the wheelbarrow and headed back for the remaining load... several gallons of water, and assorted food stuffs for the animals and I, plus a couple of bags of books I had grabbed from the discount charity bin. A quick check of the generator assured me it would run if necessary and I made room for the new stock, having to put several of the gallon jugs of water under the cot that was my area to curl up in (with a couple of the smaller dogs and the assorted cat who made some room for themselves).

Louie and Oni were the last arrivals. Oni, an ornery barn tom, one ear most missing and Louie, the next door neighbor's mutt whose size spoke of at least one Chihuahua parent. The fact that Oni ran down into the steps and headed right under my cot without a hiss or snarl to the other cats to remind them of his dominance, and Louie's insistent whining until I pushed the bunker door shut and secured it, was a little unsettling.

Was today the day the storm I had sensed and been preparing for arrived?