This past week I learned what it feels like to be a sitting duck. Growing up in Wyoming, I learned how to deal with just about every natural disaster known to man. I know what to do in event of blizzard, tornado, flash flood, prairie fire, and even the occasional earthquake, but nothing in Wyoming really prepares you for a hurricane. Out there, we build our houses to stand up to wind that regularly gust to tropical storm force, we dig storm cellars to hide in in the event of a tornado, and we build on the sides or tops of hills in case of flood. Since Louisiana has no hills, and the storm cellar would just flood anyway, I have to say that living here leaves me feeling both exposed and unprepared at all times.
Thankfully Isaac passed over us here in Houma without much ado, and I was as prepared as I could be, so this hurricane was a non-event for us. That doesn't mean that I wasn't at maximum stress level. I discovered, however, that my cats have three levels of storm alert just like the weather channel.
Sarah = high alert
Bonnie = aware
Petey = comatose
I suppose this only makes sense since Petey is Cajun born, Bonnie is from Vicksburg, and Sarah is a Yooper. As for this transplant, I need to either take lessons from Zen Master Petey or lay my hands on some Xanax before the next storm.
