Yeah, it's been that long since we've gotten rained on. There were even times when they promised we were gonna get rain and we saw the storm clouds coming but then, for some odd reason, the clouds just kinda went around us. I think we've gotten dribbled on three or maybe four times since June.
So the other night while I was trying to finish up the last of my homework before midnight and Steve was watching his shows featuring the mass slaughter of anything with antlers, there was a bright flash outside followed a few seconds later by this strange noise rumbling around and throughout the house.
Steve: Did you hear that?
Me: Uh huh.
Steve: Could it be?
Me: More than likely. Hunter did skip lunch and refuse to eat dinner tonight. He's probably starving.
Well last night found us in our usual places on the bed:
Me on my side with tax books and charts spread all over the place and a few forms across my lap as I filled them out.
Steve on his side eyeing the clock and wondering if he should take sedatives to help him sleep with the lights on.
He ended up playing games with his phone and at some random point got a weather alert saying we were under a flash flood watch. Riiight. At this point, any water dropping onto the ground vanishes instantly as every root system in the county senses moisture two time zones away and attacks.
I bet if you stood in my yard with a drink and the glass sweated, you'd hear a slurping sound start before the condensation even hit the ground. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you looked down and saw little root ends staring pitifully up at you out of the soil in their best imitation of baby birds expecting a worm.
I got rolled out of bed this morning in the usual fashion, stumbled upstairs in the dark to chase the two littles off the computers and downstairs for breakfast, and squawked in a most unladylike manner when I spotted three HUGE rats sitting in a line outside my patio door staring inside at my two cats who were sitting on this side of the door staring right back at them.
I brought my pulse back down to a rate somewhere in the triple digits and started toward the bedroom to roust Steve out of bed so he could shoot the economy sized rodents when it slowly dawned on me that I could hear pounding rain outside.
Oh no. The poor things.
Upon returning to the patio door to take a closer look it became painfully clear that the "rats" were actually three of my ferals sitting in the downpour waiting for me to feed them.
With a perfectly dry shelter lined with warm towels and blankets sitting unoccupied next to them.
Survival instinct my fuzzy patookus.