It’s Friday, and Hurricane Katrina, more than 2000 kilometres away, has thrown cold winds and scattered showers over parts of Southern Ontario, Quebec, and New Brunswick. As I step outside to grill something on the barbeque, the cats quickly run to the screen door. They temporarily forget that they’re enemies, that they normally can’t walk past each other without a swipe or a hiss, and sit side-by-side to carefully smell the damp wind coming through.
People name hurricanes after their former lovers. The headlines are always the same:
After cheating with co-worker, Hurricane Camille leaves 250 dead from Louisiana to Virginia
$400 million dollars in damage and 1145 fatalities as Hurricane Gordon weaves through the Caribbean and takes half my CD collection with him before disappearing in his Camaro.
The cats know that something has happened. They can tell that this weather is coming from somewhere else, and that many have been affected, the way some dogs know that their owners are dating the wrong people and won’t stop defending them with their lips drawn back in a snarl.
But all the cats can do is sit and sniff.
My cats always knew wheather was acting funny. they would get really upset a few hours befor rain started to fall, one night they were acting really strange, making very odd noises and hiding, the next morning there was a minor earthquake (something that never happend in Israel).
I really miss them.
What happened to them?
They are alive and well, last time I heard about them, living with me ex. I don’t see them anymore, one of the lowest break up moments was when a couple of months after he moved out I went to his apartment to pick up a book he took by mistake and they didn’t recognize me.