Sweetie and Thunderstorms.

I believe I have mentioned to you about my cat Sweetie. She is the love of my life and she supplies me with an endless stream of little stories, of which I WILL make you sit and listen to, or in this case, read. Be forewarned, here is another Sweetie story.....stop rolling your eyes~~ I can feel a change in air currents when you do it.
Onward. Sweetie has the most gentle nature, she has never once ever scratched me from anger, I personally do not think she has it in her to hurt anyone. When she is scolded (which is very rare) she will look at you with a mixture of broken-heartedness and tolerance, as if she is trying to say that she will try to do so much better, but please don't stop loving her.
Sweetie needs a certain quota of kisses every day, too. I do not exaggerate, she will sit on the bookcase, or on the bathroom counter, or where ever else she can be level with your face, and put her head down so you can kiss the top of it; time and time again. She loves her kisses, and in return she will give you tiny little licks back, I suppose the cat equivalent to a peck on the cheek.
She also needs some 'nug' time. That would be short for snuggle time, every morning. She gets up on the bed around 3:00 a.m. or so, and pats me and the blankets until I wake up and tuck her in under the blankets beside me. Let her find her way under the blankets herself, you say? I think not~~ that would be her 'Mum-cat's' job. (me in case you were wondering)
Having extolled the virtues of this delicate flower, there is one exception I have to mention to you; that would be in the case of a thunderstorm. She, as apparently with all animals, can hear a thunderstorm coming two hours before it actually hits, and her demeanor changes considerably.
She changes from my sweet, good-natured 'Pooh-cat', to the most arrogant, unbelievably sanctimonious little beast I have ever seen.
The transformation will start with the sky darkening. She will commence roaming the house, from room to room as if she is on sentry duty. Up in windows, to the doors to see from there, and back over her route, time and time again.
Then it starts~ the small gentle rumble off in the distance. She will hear this and immediately growl back, as if she and Mother Nature are playing their own version of dueling banjos.
Once the rumbling becomes more ominous, she will then add what I call 'squalling' to the mix. That would be the sounds you hear when one cat is trying to out-threaten another cat. The high-pitched, screamy, guttural kinds of meows that mean 'I am pissed off that you are even in my NEIGHBORHOOD'.
Once the storm is in full swing, so isn't Sweetie. She will march from room to room, growling and squalling and generally trying to tell the storm that she is aghast that it even DARED to impose itself upon her and her family, and that she will DAMN well be letting someone know just what she thinks about the whole situation.
This goes on until she realizes that nothing she says will deter the storm in the least, so, while summoning up as much righteous indignation as one little cat can manage, she retreats to my mother's bedroom where she sits in the dark behind the door, making a mental list of all the organizations that will be receiving a stern message from her.
I made the most unbelievably crass mistake of peeking around the door to see her sitting there, and without thinking about repercussions of any sort, I laughed at her. Well boys and girls, she stomped out of the bedroom, I am sure calling me an unmentionable name or two, and the fury of this was just coming off her little body in waves.
For about a half hour, she made it very clear, by sitting in the same room as me, but BACK TO me, that she did not appreciate my attitude toward her efforts to put an end to a most inconvenient weather situation.
I would call her~ nothing. I would pet the top of her head~ it was the same as petting a block of ice. I was to be punished for my attitude and that was all there was to it.
After about a half hour, and coincidentally, about the same time the storm wound down to nothing, she decided that I had been punished enough, and came to me and rubbed against my leg. She told me she forgave me my human frailties, I apparently could not help it seeing as I was born a human, not a cat, and I accepted this from her as a sign that I was no longer on her 'poop' list, and I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that I was once again back in her good graces.
The storm is now over, my little cat is laying on the bed all curled up and tired from her battles. She is no longer 'Sweetie Storm-Crusher', the scourge of all things tempestuous, she is now just my 'Sweetie Pooh-Cat-Rooh', a cat who loves to be kissed on her head, and who loves to nug with Mum-cat under the covers....until the next thunder storm.