THE SKY IS FALLING

I’ve often talked about my two cats in this blog. Hard not to when they are the only creatures I see for days at a time.

And they’re often hanging out on the ledge of my computer as I’m writing.

I know, I know, I need to get out more. But, between writing on my WIP, blogging, twittering, teaching on-line, FaceBooking and linking in, I spend a whole lot of time at my computer.

Anyway, back to the cats. Matt and Cinders are seven years-old now–brothers from the same litter–and like most siblings they are very different in personality.

Cinders is a very sociable, curious, risk-taker who has earned the nickname bratty-cat.

His brother Mattikar (Matt for short) is, to put it kindly, more cautious. Okay Matty-cat has sometimes been called Scaredy-cat because of his fear of new people, loud noises and thunderstorms. He has a propensity to scramble under the bed when any of these situations occur.

If outside when a storm approaches, he scurries toward the house, belly to the concrete, eyes toward heaven, obviously expecting the sky to fall.

.

Cinders sneers when his brother shows such concern–if I’d allow it, he’d stay outside dancing in the puddles.

Last May, however, Matty had his told-you-so moment.

During one of the rain-storms that occurred during that brief period of time, I was busy at the computer in my bedroom when I  heard a swish-bang-splat from the next room.

Expecting it to be the results of Cinder’s less than graceful jumps to the dining table, I hurried in to the living room.

Much to my astonishment, a three-foot square of my ceiling had fallen, Plaster, sheet rock, insulation and lots of water covered the carpet, lamp table and my favorite overstuffed chair.

I called my landlord. “Jim,” I said, “my ceiling just fell in.”

“Crap,” he said, “I’ll be right there.” And he was.

From a writer’s point of view, our dialogue was crisp, to the point and lacking any superfluous verbage.

As we  cleaned up the mess, Matt sat under the other lamp table, watching with a very smug–if slightly terrified–look on his face.

Yep. That’s one up for Chicken Little.