Prepare Pets for Tornado Season

I would rather suffer the worst writer's block ever to plague the universe than deal with tornado season.

I hate the panic I feel when weather dudes gleefully report coming storms that will bring rain, hail and high winds, and could produce tornados. Since I live in the Mid-South, tornadoes are a way of life here...like grits and Elvis, and I have them at the top of my panic list. I have a very small panic list, as I am not the panicky type. But if it can harm me and I can't control it, then its on my list.

Kim's Panic List 2013

Tornadoes

Hurricanes

Computer viruses

Snakes inside house

Black widow spiders inside house

No coffee

No coffee cream

Ray starving while I'm trying to cook dinner

Cheap cookies from Kroger

Gary Busey

 



Here in the Memphis area we've already had a tornado scare back in late February. Truly odd, but we had a warming trend for a few days so of course Mother Nature went all bitchy on us. I wasn't ready, but I did the best I could to grab cats and stuff them into cages in my walk-in kitchen closet while Ray put on his hard hat and watched the news, shouting out Breaking News Alerts every few minutes. So helpful, my Ray.

Today, warned that we are in for a couple days worth of bad weather, I got my act together and set up my tornado closet for my cats. I scrubbed cages, cleaned blankets, replenished water, medical supplies, batteries... I keep a check list pinned to the wall inside the closet to make sure I have everything ready. I also have a list of cat couples so I don't have to think about who gets along with who -- I just grab and cage.

Buddy and Herman - cage

Peaches and Opie - cage

Gidget - solo blue carrier

Dori - solo - red carrier

Jack -- adios amigo!

(he's a total touch-me-not, so...God be with you, Jack!)

If I get an early enough alert, I can also grab Chauncie Marie, who lives in my fenced yard. She's always appreciative to be pulled from the path of death. I usually put her in the laundry room, but this year I have extra cages so I will be able to cage her -- solo -- and have the laundry room in case Jesse, YumYum or even someone from the Stray Family -- Nikolas, Annie or kitten Patsy -- needs help.

When it comes to outside cats, especially ferals or touch-me-nots, I've learned  to trust God to protect them. Getting a ulcer because Charlie runs for the woods serves no purpose. I've had to accept that if I can't control a cat, I must give him up to God.

This morning I put the final touches on my tornado closet and set up the outside cats to weather the coming storm.

I added the white table this year and placed a medium cat carrier and a smaller cat carrier under it.

The top shelf holds bottled water, Kleenex, and right now the weather alert radio that will be in use when the sky gets all stormy...probably tonight since Mom Nature is a sadistic biache and loves to torment me.

Dori, 6 months old, gets ready for the storms by packing her favorite toys.

We removed the heavy plastic sheeting last week, so the back porch is exposed. It has a roof, but with the sides open, they are pretty much screwed. I have the blankets tucked under the furniture and grouped everything almost like a puzzle to hold together.

I'm pretty sure the cats will run for the woods when the storm comes...they always do...but there is a possibility that Jesse, Nik and little Patsy will hide in the big box under the table. It's protected from the rain. And if they're willing, I will try to grab them to hang out in my laundry room.

In 2009 we had a huge tree crash on our roof in 2009. I had my cats inside their cages, and had just poured myself a glass of juice, planning to join them inside the closet (Ray was out of town at the time) when I heard a crash. I turned around...and I could not see outside my kitchen door. All I saw was leaves! It created a huge mess, damaged our roof, destroyed our backyard for months.

And the scariest part of all was...my cats had to stay indoors the whole summer while the construction guys took their lame-ass sweet time about repairing and rebuilding my yard.

So, this gist of all this is...

Do you have a plan for your pets during storm season? Do you have a list ready, and a bag packed of necessaries that you might need in case you accidentally piss off Mom Nature and she wreaks havoc all over your life?

If not...consider yourself warned!

*cue the scary music.*

Stormy Days and Crazy Cats always get me down...



Buddy keeps an eye on the storm

 Spring in the Mid-South brings rain and strong winds and humidity, all of which leads to tornadoes. The sound of warning sirens gives me instant stress.

Back in 2009 I was pulling into my garage with a baggie of fish for my aquarium when the sirens went off. I thought I handled the situation well. I gathered my six or seven cats (I never know how many I actually have) and put them in the kitchen walk in closet inside cages. I gathered up beloved possessions and then, exhausted, grabbed myself a glass of tea before deciding to join them.

I recall turning around from the refrigerator to see tree tops covering my back door. Tree tops? A huge tree had fallen and taken out my yard and half my roof. I commend myself for being the ultimate in calm. I picked up my cell phone and dialed a tree service that I had used in the past. I figured the storm was bad enough that they would be very busy in the coming days. I needed first dibs on them. And they came, bless them. That day. The tree covered half my driveway and made a huge mess of everything but thankfully no one was hurt.

My first thought is always for my cats. Outdoor ones come first. Tonight I grabbed father and daughter, Jesse and Gidget and put them in my laundry room. I have two beds, a litter box, a lamp, food and water waiting for them. I spray Feliway to keep them calm but they're both pretty chill cats to begin with.

Then I set up Chauncie and Jack in my fenced yard. Chauncie is neurotic so she cannot come inside. Jack keeps her company under the chaise longue pushed against the house with a second chaise on its side butted against it. They seem fine about the arrangement and they are protected from weather.

My indoor cats are another story altogether. They. Are. NUTS.  If I have to grab them to put in the cages, I have to walk around like nothing is going on and catnab them one at a time, starting with the most hysterical (Barney, Opie) and ending with the least punchy (Herm, Nick, Buddy). If I make a sudden move and there is any sound of commotion, a feline warning siren goes off, alerting them Mom is going berzerk and to take cover. I have back problems. I cannot move as fast as I used to. So I try to be as calm as possible to avoid personal pain.

I am not an alarmist but I take these storms seriously. Unlike my husband who walks around munching Cheetos, poo-pooing that anything will happen. Tonight he thought he'd mow the lawn before the rain started. The storm is moving at 50mph and is sitting on the other side of the Mississippi river and he thinks he has time to mow. He drives me NUTS!  More than my cats, and that is saying a lot, my friend.

Breakfast with Cats

Breakfast in our household begins promptly at 6:30, seven days a week. I don't get weekends off to sleep in. The General won't allow it.

With spring comes storms, and plenty of them here in the Mid-South. This year I purchased a weather radio. I was plenty sick of being caught unprepared, especially with six cats plus a few outdoor ones I'm particularly fond of. I have a kitchen closet deep and wide stacked with cages ready to be filled. I even have them tagged for who is placed where. In the closet I have bottled water, canned and dry food. Medication. Feli-Way spray to calm them down...I kinda hope it also works on me.

This week we've had several storms roll through, tripping the weather radio alarm. The band I use also sends alerts to storms in nearby Arkansas. This year Arkansas seems to be targeted for the worst with flooding, tornadoes, lightening and more. The alarm, meant to give me warning, has ramped up my panic. I now understand the meaning behind the saying, ignorance is bliss. I had bliss before I bought the radio. No more.

Yesterday morning I awoke to storm clouds and rain. I set up the cat bowls and divvied up the Fancy Feast, the DM (for Buddy) and the CD (for Herman). Peaches requested sprinkles so I added a few kibbles over her bowl. I'm trying to steer my gang off dry food. Its not healthy and I've lost a few cats to kidney disease, but a few is better than a constant bowl.

I scatter the bowls around my kitchen. Each cat has their own particular place preference. Opie and Peaches eat side by side. So does Nick and his toady, Cookie (aka The General). Herman eats in front of the kitchen sink. Barney on the table, a habit formed from years of having his food taken by the alphas before he's finished. Buddy eats in the bedroom. At age 20 he's had enough of the morning drama and requested his meals to be catered.

I then feed the outdoor cats: Chauncie in the fenced yard, sometimes Jack. Jesse and his daughter JayJay on the other porch. They prefer to eat atop their cat trees. I also bring kibble and cookies for a couple young raccoons who will join the cats in their cat tree if I don't feed them by the woods. Once everyone is hunkered around the bowls, I wait.

I wait because once one of them finishes eating, he will move to see who hasn't. Normally its Nick who bullies his way into a brother's bowl, but with Nick now on Prozac, not only has his aggression issues mellowed, his appetite dropped and he's lost weight. A total godsend, that Prozac! Now I watch for Cookie to finish. I swear Cookie is bulimic. I've yet to see him stick a paw down his throat, but if I am distracted he will finish off as many bowls as he can, and then upchuck a warm soupy mess onto my freshly cleaned floor.

But with the spring storms comes additional commotion. This morning the alarm went off just as Cookie was tucking into his breakfast. It startled him enough to inhale through his left nostril. He wheezed and coughed and choked with considerable drama. That's all I need, I thought. Death by Fancy Feast. The alarm scattered several cats from their bowls. Having inhaled his own breakfast, Cookie helped himself to Herman's.