Thunderstorms are Scary

Poor Apricot. He hasn't lost his fear of thunderstorms like I thought he might have.

Yesterday we had a whopper of a thunderstorm, and it happened late enough in the day that I was home for it.

At first Apricot did try to be brave. When the thunder was growling occasionally in the distance he merely hid under my chair. I didn't realize it was the thunder doing the scaring because we also experienced a pair of rather determined salespeople. (Now, look, if I'm obviously here, because I know you saw me through the window, and I don't answer the door when you knock on it, get a clue, people. I do not mean come back in a half an hour and pound on the door even harder this time! Grr.)

But it wasn't the knocking that scared him, because knocking has never produced anything scary. I don't open my door unless I know you or unless you're holding an official badge. In which case, which has never happened, but if it does, I'm going to call your official place and make sure they actually sent people. So nobody's come in through that door, and Apricot doesn't know they could.

He does know about thunder, and thunderstorms, and getting wet and miserable during them. I envision him cowering as a soaked, bedraggled, dirty orange kitten under a bush, shaking in fear as the summer storm pours down on him. No wonder he's afraid of thunder and rain.

And when I, all unaware of the true situation, asked if he wanted to come out and play, he actually did come out from under the chair. If I'd just realized, I would have left him there in "safety" and hoped that he stayed there instead of retreating to his ultimate safe hideaway. But the thunder was off in the distance and muted, and I wasn't thinking.

He didn't actually play with the bird feathers though. He tried, but he just couldn't shake the dread. And then the storm was upon us with summer ferocity, sudden rain drumming off the porch planks and hitting the patio door windows.

Apricot couldn't take it anymore and ran.

I followed after a few minutes, to make sure he was more or less okay. He didn't want petted under the headboard, though. He moved away from my hand, but gave me an apologetic glance with kitty kisses (the slow eye blinks) to show that it wasn't me.

And, having finally rebooted my brain, I understood. Sometimes when you're really scared of something, you need to be able to concentrate on it, and not be distracted by other things. Because then you can keep the fear at bay. If someone distracts you, then the fear can creep up on you and overwhelm you all at once, and it's not fun.

Well, since I knew he wasn't coming out till the storm was over and I wouldn't have kitty company anyway, I went and watched some tv. I told him that's what I was going to do so he'd at least have warning when the tv noises joined the thunderstorm noises.

But I wasn't too worried, because on Sunday while I was watching tv he had actually come in the room while the episode was running and ignored the tv and its sounds while approaching me on the couch. I'd lifted him onto the sofa and petted him for a little bit before he got down and left, but at no time did he flinch or twitch or run or show any signs that the tv was bothering him.

So I think he's understanding that the tv isn't harmful. He's just not really into being in any one place for long periods of time with someone. He naps like any cat, but he prefers to nap in high places by himself. Still too much buried fear to abandon himself to sleep while vulnerable.

After the storm was over (and my tv show) I went into the bedroom to see how he was doing. He came right out, and was quite happy to see me. He felt the same way I did, that we'd been cheated out of time together. Unfortunately I couldn't do as he requested and stay awake and out of bed longer in order to make up the time.

He did stay with me the whole time I was getting ready for bed and even had his goodnight kiss in the bedroom (instead of somewhere in the living room as usual) and didn't leave until I'd gotten into bed, pulled up the covers, and turned out the light.

Then he got a snack (crunch crunch crunch) and left out the curtained doorway (very quiet swish of fabric moving just a tad). (Yup, I have freaky hearing. Makes sleeping somewhat difficult at times.)