If you blog-reader types are anything like my people, you are completely and totally sick of talking heads telling you about the wild ride that was Hurricane Irene. You probably especially feel that way if she stopped by your neighborhood.
But look at me – I’m a CUTE talking head. How often do you get the real deal ferreted out for you by … a ferret? So sit back, or better yet, do what I do and curl up in your hammock, and let me take you along for the ride.
My people – Pam and Lee – have been worried about something called “Hurricane Irene” coming our way for days now. The People worry about all sorts of things that don’t bother me, like bills and work. They just can’t get the fact that life is all hammock snoozing and weasel war dancing through their silly little heads. So at first, I figured this Irene chick would be just another one of those things.
Now, I’m not so sure. There are signs of bad, scary things coming my way. Namely, the pet carrier is sitting in front of my cage. That thing is never good news. The last time Sly (my obnoxious brother, who also happens to be a cat) went out in one of those, he came back without his balls. Mine were already long gone, and he STILL expected me to feel sorry for him.
I know a little more now. I AM going somewhere in that damn carrier, but it isn’t to get body parts removed. Apparently we are going to “Grandmom’s house.”
Grandmom and Grandad are 80-something. We weasels have much shorter life spans than you humans. Maybe that’s why we get to chill in hammocks all day while ya’ll go do that work thing. It balances the scales a little. So to me, 80 seems REALLY old.
The People must think so too, because they have decided that Grandmom and Grandad are too old to be in a storm like Irene alone. That’s cool of them, I guess. The part I don’t like is that they’ve also decided that me and Sly have to come along for the ride. They don’t want to leave us alone either.
I know they’re only looking out for me, and part of me is glad. Sly is my brother, but I’m pretty sure if The People didn’t come home for days and days, he’d get hungry and I’d start looking less like a sibling and more like a walking can of Fancy Feast.
The people have prepped the house as best they can for our visit from this Irene bitch. Now they need to go blow off some steam. They’re going to the place they call The Pub to see someone they refer to as “The Shot Fairy.”
To me, that sounds like more fun than going to Grandmom’s. Why can’t they take me THERE?
Oh well, maybe they’ll get so drunk they sleep all day tomorrow and I can just hang out in my hammock through this Irene shit.
No such luck. They’re up and about. They’re taking this big thing called a “‘generator” and some of the food in our fridge. Apparently people food goes bad if it doesn’t stay cold. They should learn to eat kibble like me.
They’re also packing up their gym bags, but not with their workout clothes. Instead, Pam just tossed in her Steelers pjs.
Crap. We’re really going somewhere else for the duration.
Saturday Early Afternoon
We’re in the van, on the way to “Grandma’s house.” They stopped at a gas station to get gas for the generator. The ride isn’t so bad. Pam made my carrier all comfy with my favorite blankets, and I’m just curled up watching the world go by. Sly won’t shut up though. He keeps going “mrrrrrowwww. Mrrrrrrowwwww. Yoowwwwwllll. Yowwwwwlll.”
That’s what it sounds like, anyway. I think what it actually means is “WTF?” Since The People don’t speak Cat any more than I do, it is just driving them buggy too. I don’t know what he’s so worried about. It isn’t like he has balls to be cut off anymore.
Saturday 3 pm
We are at Grandmom and Grandad’s. I’m still chillin’ in my carrier. Pam set it by where Grandad hangs out, because he likes watching me. I make him smile and giggle. I’m not sure why, since I’m pretty much just sitting here.
Its raining and windy outside, but not so bad. I think maybe they blew this Irene bitch up to be tougher than she is.
The REAL chaos is in here. First, there’s the Boston terrier named “Tippy” who keeps snuffling at my cage and drooling like I’m a frickin’ Vienna sausage. Then there’s Sly and Noodle. Noodle is Grandmom’s cat, and she looks like an even fatter version of Sly. She’s not paying me any mind, but she’s six shades of pissed about Sly being in her house. She hasn’t stopped growling and hissing since we got here. Sly has taken up residence in a closet.
Maybe this will teach him how it feels to be bullied by someone who sort of considers you a food product?
Saturday 6 pm.
Wow. People eat a LOT when they are stressed. Pam, Lee, Grandmom and Grandad are plowing through junk food like its nobody’s business. Haven’t seen my peeps chow like that since they started going back to the gym.
Saturday 8 pm
Winds have picked up quite a bit. I can hear them whipping around and they disturb my hammock zen. Rain is coming down like crazy too. Lee keeps going out and trying to get it on camera, but it is too dark for him to really capture anything. They took me out for a while and let Grandmom hold me. She seemed to like me, but Tippy got all upset and kept trying to knock me off her lap. Which is REALLY hypocritical, considering he’s been laying his fat ass on MY people all day.
Saturday 10 pm
Things are really kicking up speed now. When weasels get nervous, we vibrate, and I’ve been vibrating a lot. Not sure if it is because of the storm or the fact that Tippy STILL thinks I’m a sausage.
Pam has been obsessing about the fact that we can’t watch the Steelers game because they pre-empted it for hurricane coverage. Her uncle and her former boss who live in West Virginia and don’t have Irene visiting are calling with scores. I’m kinda glad. My people act weird and scream and cuss and stuff when they watch football, and its loud enough in here already with Noodle growling and Sly yowling and Tippy wishing he could have me on a bun with some ketchup and mustard.
Saturday 11 pm
Ruh-roh. Power is out. Pam is running around lighting candles and Lee is venturing out to work on getting the generator started. So glad I am locked back in my carrier all comfy or Tippy would surely try to roast me over one of those candle flames.
Sunday 12 am
People are huddled in living room. Trees outside seem to be bending over backwards. Rain lashing windows. Wind whipping.
Sunday 1 am
Screw this. I’m crawling waaayyyy under these covers.
Sunday 2 am
Rain and wind still crazy. Can’t sleep. Grandad is in bed. Grandmom keeps wanting crackers and cheese and bananas and peanut butter bread every time Pam starts to doze off on the couch. At least Tippy has fallen asleep and is no longer trying to order me up with a side of fries.
Sunday 4 am
Grandmom is snoozing in her chair but keeps jolting awake and talking. Tippy is laying by the couch. I think he wore himself out too much to try to eat me now.
Yikes. Big wind gust. I just pooped on my blanket.
Sunday 6 am
Things are dying down around here. The wind is still whipping, but the rain is slowing down. Pam and Lee finally dozed off for a little rest but Grandmom is still puttering about. I don’t think that lady sleeps.
Sunday 8 am.
The neighbor came over and said she had 8 inches of water in her basement. My People checked Grandmom’s, and there’s a little but not nearly that much.
Unfortunately, it sounds like Grandmom has so much junk down there that a lot of things got ruined anyway. Pam is talking about “mountains of clothes.”
That sounds like weasel heaven! I’d try to break out and go exploring, if it wasn’t for the water part. I hate baths, so I’m guessing I wouldn’t like a flooded basement either.
Grandmom is much more worried about getting some more cheese and the fact that the toaster isn’t hooked up to the generator right now. Everyone else considered the coffee pot a top priority.
Sunday 10 am
The wind is still crazy but The People think they can take us home now. I’m glad. No one has remembered to feed Tippy yet, and he’s REALLY working up a drool when he looks at me.
Sunday 11 am
We are on the way home. There was a big tree down in the road just up the street from Grandmom’s, but not blocking the way we have to travel. The people keep saying “wow” and “shit” as they pass stuff. But I didn’t really know what any of this looked like before, so I have nothing to compare it to.
Ahhhh, peace and quiet.
The people went back to Grandmom’s to work on the basement. Grandmom’s power came back on and ours never went out at home, so I’m glad to say we don’t have to stay there again. I’m tired of that fat dog mistaking me for a cheese steak sub.
So the people are gone, and Sly has dashed off into the spare room to hide under the bed for a day or so. He needs to let our people know that he’s pissed about them making him travel and spend the night with bitchy old growling Noodle.
I don’t think the people really care at this point.
So for now, I have the living room to myself, and I’ve just climbed into my trusty hammock and curled into a sleepy ball of weasel. The life of a ferret is a good one …
Just about to doze off. Out the window, the sun is starting to shine.
Pam’s note: I figured my storm update would be more fun coming from Vin, so I gave him the controls. In all seriousness, it was a scary night, but could have been much worse.
My neighbors said the power on our street flickered but never went out altogether. Our only damage was a few tree limbs in our yard. We were very lucky. At Grandmom’s we were without power from about 11 pm until 10 am or so Sunday morning, and had the minor basement flooding. Again, pretty lucky, all things considered.
My parents, who were just a few miles up the road from us and Grandmom, fared much worse. They have four downed trees in their yard, one of them a huge old pine tree. One of the trees fell near their pool and took down power lines with it, so someone needs to come and deal with those before they can even think about cleanup on the rest.
They were still without power as of last night.
All I can say is that I’m glad its over. Irene makes a normal dreaded Monday seem almost … dare I say it … calm.