This evening a thunder boomer blew in to Dahlonega, a rowdy one carrying copious rain. I opened the sliding glass door and the living room window to settle in and enjoy the storm. Within minutes, rain blew in both openings, so I scrambled to shut them.
I sat down to Facebook, on my unplugged laptop, and had just typed 'We're having a glorious' when my cell phone rang. It was roomie, on his way home from work. As we discussed the ferocity of the storm, I stood in the living room looking out the sliding glass door.
In the middle of freaking out just a tiny bit, I hung up and realized that Bugsy was out there in that maelstrom. I opened the door to call him, then slammed it shut against the rain. Running to the basement, I threw open the door that is sheltered by the deck above. I heard the franticity in my voice as it competed with the storm. No Bugsy.
To make matters worse, cherry-sized hail began falling. My poor little one.
I ran back upstairs and saw his tail flash in the corner of the slider, then was gone. He wasn't at the front door so I raced back to the basement, where I'd left the door open a few inches. No Bugsy. I called and he shot out from under the car, soaked to the skin and frightened to the core. He ran in and up the stairs, but stopped and cowered about three steps from the top. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him like a body turban, drying him and comforting us both .
It's hours later and still raining. So far, there's just a round wet spot on the kitchen ceiling, no break through. And the dripping seems to have stopped in Randy's bedroom. For now. I sincerely hope the insurance company gets here first thing in the morning so they can get it patched, and fixed quickly.
It was quite an exciting evening, one that will not soon be forgotten. Certainly not by Bugsy, who got a much-needed bath. He's all soft and curled up in the chair beside me, waiting patiently for me to go to bed. We're all safe. And that's a good thing. Now it's late. And way past my bed time.