So today I am having a fun time trying to get stuff done and stay productive. Fun might be a bit of an overstatement, though, because the universe, or at least my immediate circle of fur-covered companions, has other plans. Social media is innocent this time; no mindless scrolling has sabotaged my efforts. Instead, I am under siege by two Maine Coons and a dog. All three have collectively decided that this moment, right now, is the perfect time to demand my attention. It’s as if they came together in some secret animal council and decided to stage an intervention, or maybe a mutiny, against my productivity.

Picture this: I am pinned down, literally. Three animals, roughly the same size, are trying to share my lap. One cat is headbutting my hand every time I try to type, while the other has taken the strategic role of blocking my computer screen with their glorious fluff. If that weren’t enough, my dog, the ever-dutiful companion, is nudging my elbow and wrist as if to say, “Human, focus! Get back to work! Whatever this clicking nonsense is, it’s beneath you. Throw the ball instead!” I suspect the dog has been picking up some habits from the cats, which, honestly, is a little unsettling. She’s usually the sensible one. But here she is joining the feline chaos, and I am left wondering if a dog can experience an identity crisis. Is she a dog who thinks she’s a cat, or a cat who’s been undercover this whole time?

Don’t get me wrong; I love the attention. Who wouldn’t adore three fluffy creatures vying for affection? But why, oh why, do they always pick the exact moments when I am trying to be productive? It’s as if they’ve mastered the art of dramatic timing. When I have nothing urgent to do, they vanish like shadows, except for the dog. She’s always close, whether I’m working, relaxing, or contemplating the mysteries of the universe. A typical service dog, she’s as reliable as clockwork, except when she decides she’d rather play fetch. Yesterday, during work hours, she insisted I throw the ball. I had to remind her that I have deadlines, though she didn’t seem particularly moved by my plight.

Today, though, there’s another layer to the chaos. We have a thunderstorm warning in effect across multiple areas of the province, and the satellite images look ominous. I’m currently on high alert, which means storm preparation is in full swing. I’ve got candles in jars, flashlights ready, sandwiches prepped, because heaven forbid, I have to open the fridge more than once if the power goes out, and the storm bin is out. Living in the tornado belt means this has become a ritual for me. Large cities don’t get hit often, but it has happened, so I always err on the side of caution. Every year, in every single place I go, I go over the drill: where’s my shelter, what’s in the storm bin (I have one in the trunk when out), and how fast can I get everything and everyone to safety? Yes everyone, as a healer I tend to want to prevent the need for my skills then have to use them. So herding humans, way harder then herding cats, to get to safety just a random bit of information there.

The storm bin is a masterpiece of preparedness. Blankets, food, water, a CB radio, it’s all there. The only thing I have to worry about in the moment is grabbing my meds and wrangling the animals down under the stairs. Wrangling the animals, however, is easier said than done. The cats, these two fluffy escape artists, have an uncanny ability to disappear at the mere sight of their kennels. They don’t just hide, they vaporize. One moment they’re there, perched regally on the couch, and the next, poof, gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint memory of their existence. As I sit here with them climbing all over me and “helping” me type, which is, of course, the exact opposite of helping, all I can think about is how I’ll manage the logistics of getting them into shelter when the storm hits. It’s like playing a high-stakes game of hide-and-seek, except the stakes involve potential tornadoes, large hail stones that could break windows, the typical stuff.

Meanwhile, the dog is the least of my worries. She’s a pro at storm drills, always sticking close to me and ready to follow my lead. Even when she’s not in her work gear, she’s reliable. If only she could have a chat with the cats about teamwork and cooperation. But no, the cats are busy being themselves, aloof, dramatic, and occasionally chaotic. They’re helping me type, yet again, or so they think, but in reality, they’re just adding to the chaos. And yet, I wouldn’t trade this circus for anything. It’s all part of the package when you have pets and when you’re house-sitting with even more pets. There’s never a dull moment; the chaos is constant, and the humour is abundant. Plus, I am the type who many be scared of thunder, but my energy seems to thrive with high winds and storms.

So here I sit, swarmed by fur and paws, trying to balance productivity, storm preparedness, and the demands of three creatures who think they’re the center of the universe. And maybe they are. As I glance at the satellite images one last time, I realize I wouldn’t have it any other way. Life with pets and storms may be unpredictable, but it’s also full of love, laughter, and just a touch of madness. And honestly, isn’t that what makes life interesting? These two kitties may not be my fur balls however this home has always been a second home to me, so they are still my companions.

Now you may think the preparedness level I have going on is a bit drastic however that is the joy of ASD, need to play out scenarios and plan. The ADHD makes it so I am distractable, now an emergency this has never been an issue however that one time it is, would be the one time I need to be prepared fast. I might go and tape a few laser pointers to the fans around the main floor. Might get some work done then. I could use some ideas people please, cause even my cat at home tends to do the disappearing act after going feral though. Siamese temper rarely shows but when it does, PPE becomes needed, and I mean full body coverage. She may be the runt and tiny, but I wouldn’t cross her.

One reason for taking these precautions is related to PTSD. During Black Friday in Edmonton Alberta, I was in the midst of the chaos at ground zero the worst place to be, and though I was incredibly young at the time, it left me with lasting fears, some of which have developed into phobias. This is not the only tornado encounter I have had; a notable instance occurred while walking to work across an open field. Observing the sky turning green, I saw funnels forming and moving progressively closer to the ground. Knowing the area well, I sought refuge in a deep dip in the road a few blocks away, understanding that tornadoes tend to skip over such depressions. There was also a large storm drain at the base of this steep hill where I could take cover. The tornado did touch down but dissipated before reaching my location. The distinct sound and color of the sky during a tornado are unforgettable.

If you find yourself in an open area when a tornado is close, research suggests seeking the lowest possible ground, such as a ditch or depression, away from trees and cars. Lie face down and cover your head with your arms. It’s crucial to avoid areas with debris. If there’s no low ground nearby, try to get to a sturdy shelter at once. Do not remain in a vehicle; it’s safer on foot where you can quickly move to lower and safer areas. This is what my research revealed to me later that day and late into the night. I never wanted to be caught unprepared again.

Do you know what to do for the common natural disasters that can happen in your area? What are some things you do to prepare for them? This sort of knowledge is invaluable and should be taught in school year after year, so it is instinct to be honest yet, it isn’t and that puts lives at risk. Something I am not so fond of as a front-line responder, retired or not. So let’s start a dialogue as to preparedness.