It's 3am--Do You Know Where Your (Fur)Kids Are?

The storm woke me up. Well, the storm, or the Lasix. Or maybe it was that last DDP late in the evening. No matter, I'm blaming it on the thunder.

I usually sleep well through rainy weather and storms of all kinds, but Moggy went outside late (he left the same time as when he usually comes  in for the night).  He was still out, cattin' around, so I was sleeping a little lighter than usual.

First, in a not quite awake, not quite asleep state, I heard the neighborhood souped up,  muffler-less truck engine coming to life, with radio blasting.  As it rolled out of the neighborhood, the choo-choo tooted its early morning "just passing through" warning. Usually I find the lonely sound of a train whistle comforting. However, if one of the boys is outside--even just in the back yard, it fills me with a pervasive uneasy dread that lasts until I lay eyes on them and know they are safe.

Finally, the sound that jolted me completely out of drowsiness acousted my ears:  that of a deafening clap of  thunder. The thunder was impressive even without being  accompanied by lighting strikes. 

And then I heard the tiniest meow.  It was Moggy, but it sounded like it came from the front door rather than the back door.  I have a little roof overhang at the  front door, and he has come in the front on occasion,  but it's usually when he scampers up to greet me after work.  For the most part, Moggy comes and goes through the back door.  However, it is possible Moggy had been lounging on the driveway and the storm caught him unawares.  Unable to reach one of his usual sheltering places, he might take whatever shelter that small front-door overhang provides.

Struggling to get slippers on my feet,  it took me longer than usual to trudge off to the front door. Enroute  I realized I hadn't heard his meow in a few, so I started talking to him through the door. Often this will keep him close by--at least until I can get to  the door.

Not this time. I opened the front door. There was nothing for me to see. And I do mean nothing. No Moggy.  No nocturnal animals. Nothing. What shocked and impressed me though, was the total lack of moisture.

Yep.  The storm was a dream. Moggy was not in danger.  At least not from a storm.

With a lessoned sense of urgency I  made my way  to the back door and opened it. I knew  Moggy wouldn't  be there. He wasn't. I called his name the way I do when it's time for him to come inside. If he's close by and wants to come in, he shoots across the yard.  This time?  Nada. 

Bandit wanted to go potty, so I let him go outside. While he was attending to business, I puttered around doing a few neglected household chores: replacing barely there TP rolls with full rolls. Topping off Bandits water and food dishes. Consolidating all the trash from the small trash cans into one tall kitchen trash can, taking it to the trash bin outside, and relinning the cans with new bags.

After Bandit had a sufficient amount of time to take care of business, I opened the back door and called for him to come back inside. When he came inside,  his brother Moggy joined us.

So it's now a little after 3am and I do know where my FurKids are, so I'm going back to sleep--at least until my morning alarms start to sound off in a couple of hours.