Lightning kept flashing outside the windows. Sydney counted each time, “one, two three…” until thunder rolled down a strike. It was Finne night but the only thunder word we came across was two pages ago, and it had nothing to do with thunder.
At home Petey our orange cat who has been suffering from congestive heart failure was giving out what seemed like his last cries—heart-wrenching, sad goodbyes that he was uttering to us. We wrapped him in a blanket and put him near the heater, but he was determined to go outside, in the storm, to find refuge in a little igloo.
I found Petey dead next to the igloo a little after 11pm. His eyes were bright and big, as if he was still alive. The rain-soaked ground had made his feet wet and the night air cooled his body. I carried him inside and put him in a box.
In thunder and lightning Petey goes. All we are left with is memory.
