The other day we were having some pretty good wind, as in gusts over 20 mph. Holly is not a fan of wind storms and I can't say I blame her much. She and I grew up in tall tree country where a good blow means flying debris, falling limbs and downed power lines not to mention whole trees toppling over wrecking havoc on anything and everything on the way down.
Now we're in the southeast corner of North Carolina, flat land - and wow does the wind blow! A while back a shutter tore off the next door neighbor's house and came visiting. It didn't ring the doorbell. It tried coming through the side of the house. Holly looked at me and said "heck of a place you brought us to Mom."
The stove in my niece's kitchen is in the island. Instead of having a hood, exhaust fans pull fumes down and then push them out through an opening in the foundation. Keep this in mind.
Most the time the wind broadsides the house hitting either porch but every now and then it shifts around to hit one of the ends. Such as was the case when the shutter got us. Ok, regarding pertinent details of the stove exhaust system, you need to know it terminates on the north side of the house, aka, an "end".
So the other day the sustained wind had Holly and D*O*G periodically running around [inside] the house convinced aliens were dispatching zombies to steal toys, treats and pillows. Tommy really didn't care what was going on outside, he was dozing atop the dryer.
Around evening time I kicked back in the living room to watch television. Holly took position between me and the French Doors to keep an eye out for alien / zombie invaders. D*O*G gave up patrolling the front of the house and went to search his mommy's room for buried treasures.
Suddenly the wind shifted swinging around to blast the north end of the house. It vibrated the garage doors. Large gardenia bushes rustled and slapped against the house. And the wind, being wind, found an opening. Banging and clattering it rushed up the exhaust tube. Holly leaped to her feet prepared to challenge the enemy. D*O*G charged out of the bedroom barking. Not spotting any aliens / zombies, the little fellow stalked around the house growling until he was convinced all was good.
I told the three it was just the wind. I could tell they didn't believe me. Tommy hopped down from the dryer and came into the living room where he promptly settled onto the ottoman. Holly's attention was focused out the French Doors. D*O*G was scanning the front door with x-ray vision. Nothing and no one was going to get into the house with my three protectors on the job.
A strong gust of wind rattled the windows on the north side of the house. The garage doors shuddered. Bangs, clangs and a burst of fresh cold air signaled that our defences had been breached.
Tommy jumped straight up in a manner only cats can do. If D*O*G had a tail it would have been tucked between his legs as he ran for his bed and dove under his blankie. Holly stood her ground, or more accurately sat on my feet.
Less than five minutes later another strong gust loudly found its way inside. I have a brief recollection of D*O*G's toenails on the hardwood floor. The next thing I knew he was burrowing between me and the side of the chair. Tommy was plastered to my left arm, all four paws holding on tight. And my beautiful blonde was tried crawling in my lap but the black small ones refused to share.
A hoard of zombies, an army of aliens or the entire 81st Airborne Div housed down the street at Ft. Bragg would not have been able to pry us out of that chair. Twenty minutes, a half hour; it wasn't until the family came that D*O*G raised his head out of my jacket and Tommy let go of my arm. Holly would like you to think she was protecting her mommy from the "other two". I think we all know otherwise.