Snowpocalypse Report

Yesterday, that would be Thursday, the 13th, the Plan was to wake up at 4:30 a.m. so that Steve could be delivered at the train station in Brunswick in time to catch the 7:05 to Boston, where he was to partake of Boskone.

The Plan went awry before it was fairly underway, with Jasmine Sprite, Princess of the Night declaring at our wake-up time must be 3:30 a.m. in order that she didn’t miss any play-and-snuggle-time.

Despite this change, Steve did arrive, somewhat blearier than anticipated at Brunswick in good time to catch his train.  The sky was gray and lowering.  I waved good-bye as the train left the station, then boogied up to Topsham, where I paused at Tim Horton’s for an asiago-cheese-sundried-tomato-and-parmesean (ohnomNOM) bagel and a cup of coffee.  I dawdled over bagel and coffee, and read the Portland Press Herald, just like folks in Olden Times used to do, and after breakfast drove back to the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, where I proceeded to Do Chores and wait for the arrival of the Snowpocalypse.

It did not take very long at all for the father-and-daughter investigative team of Sooper Trooper and Jasmine Sprite to tumble to the fact that Two had Left Together, but Only One Had Returned. They mounted a Thorough Investigation of Every! Room! In! The! House! meeting frequently in the hallway to sniff noses and mutter at each other, doubtless proposing this theory, discarding it, and forming another theory as more facts were uncovered.  At one point, they interviewed Scrabble, who was. . .not cooperative.  Mozart was asleep.

Having Definitely Established that the One who had Not Returned was Steve, the investigative team decided to stick to me like candy on an apple, which made chore-doing. . .interesting.  But, it all got done, eventually, and even some words written, though no nap was taken, because by that point I was too tired to sleep.

Snowpocalypse arriving, I took a couple turns at sweeping snow away from the door and off the steps.  The power went out once, for less than five minutes, and eventually I did go to bed and to sleep.

And here, I want to talk about Trooper for a little bit.  This may be triggery for some folks, so if you don’t like to hear about pets sleeping in beds, or on people, skip on down ’til I say WHEN.

In Trooper’s former life, he was taught to put his front paws around the neck and give a hug.  Which is nice.  However, he also likes to lay on my chest at night, put his front paws against either side of my neck and knead, which is, um, Really Kind Of Scary, because he’s a big, athletic cat with, yanno, scimitars in each of his toes, which I do, yes, clip, but. . .

We’ve had several discussions about this, and he’s tried to modify his behavior, to just lying companionably on me, but. . .it’s no good.  Eventually, he’ll give this little yip and throw his paws around me in a frenzy of kneading.  He can’t just not.

Until last night, when I woke up with Trooper sleeping on me chest and his paws, with claws completely sheathed, resting gently against my cheeks.  He was purring; it was comforting and not at all scary. . .and I went back to sleep.

He really is an Awfully Good Cat.


So, up this morning to find that Snowpocalypse deposited about six inches of pretty heavy, crusty snow all up and down the road.  I’ve cleared the deck and the steps and after I finish this report, I’ll go outside and finish clearing off the cars, so I’ll Be Prepared when the plowguy gets here.

We’re now in the stage of the drill where we hope nothing goes bad with the wires to the south that might affect the power here — and getting on with Things until our next scheduled snowstorm, which is. . .Saturday night.

I hope everybody weathered the storm well.

More later, after car-cleaning.


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