You may recall that last weekend, we had some wild weather. It’s actually been a wild couple of weeks, weatherwise. Between floods and tornadoes, we’ve had all we can do to keep up with the effects of the storms leveled at us. Last week’s storms knocked down two of our trees, and left branches dangling from a couple of others. Seymour and I spent Sunday afternoon trying to clean up the yard, only to have more storms roll through that night.
My hometown was too close for comfort to one of Sunday evening’s passing tornadoes. Apparently, our new house was also fairly close, but I didn’t know that till Monday morning.
Puppy was a gift from my dad and I’ve had him for longer than I can remember. We share a telepathic connection, and he has always been there to comfort me when I needed it. Despite his advanced age – 210 in dog years – he doesn’t look half bad. Oh, sure, his hat is missing, and he’s had a few surgeries over the years (he’s had several nose jobs, plus open heart surgery and a spinal fusion)*, but his heart is as big as ever. And even though he no longer goes 
I went upstairs to put the boys to bed a little after 8:00 p.m. and the sky was dark. Like middle-of-the-night dark. Given that it’s been staying light till somewhere around 9:00 p.m. lately, this was odd. But it had been raining, so I didn’t worry too much about it. I had just started reading Fox in Socks when the emergency alert went off on my phone – a tornado warning had just been issued. I hollered down to Seymour to find out what was going on and he said he’d check the radar, so I went back to reading. A couple minutes later, Bubbles thundered up the stairs and said we were supposed to head down to the basement.
Suddenly they all died. The end. 