It was easy to tell something was fixing to go down with the weather on Wednesday from the weird behavior of my cat butler.
Curled up in my chair, I watched him pile an extra wheelbarrow load of firewood on the porch. He filled the kerosene heater.
Most important, he made sure we had plenty of cat food to get us through the possible ice storm that has everyone talking.
As I write this fine column Wednesday, I, Boat Dock, am crossing my whiskers and toes we don’t wake up this morning to ice-encased trees, power lines down and no electricity.
I don’t relish making my morning coffee on the manservant’s camp stove.
Me being the eternal optimist, I’m sure nature won’t throw us an encore of the epic ice storm that hit Jan. 27, 2009.
I was pretty young back then, maybe 1 or 2, but who can forget the breaking trees that sounded like gunfire every 10 seconds, then going days or weeks without electricity?
The sound was so eerie I ducked for cover under the coffee table. About dark there was a knock on the door. The cat butler answered. It was the neighbor kid.
“What are you doing here little Johnny?” the CB asked.
“Weatherman said we’re supposed to check on the elderly,” Johnny piped.
Then the electricity went out and stayed out. We were out for a week at the hovel, but that was nothing compared to other hovels without power for nearly a month.
So let’s review. What did we learn from that 2009 ice storm? Be prepared like a Boy Scout is one thing.
No. 2, never under appreciate the luxury of a nice hot shower.
Your faithful cat columnist saw a silver lining in all this ice storm calamity that made my heart laugh. It was how so many of you humans came together to help others get back on their feet.
In Rogers, a call for volunteers went out one Saturday to help clean up the yards of those unable to do it themselves. Eight hundred people showed up. It brought the cat butler to tears.
Hobbs State Park-Conservation Area was ground zero for the ice storm. Armies of volunteers showed up on work days to help reopen the hiking trails.
Our Shackrila is in a nice little community next to my federal water dish, Beaver Lake. There’s one road in and one road out.
So many trees fell across the county road even a mouse couldn’t make it out, much less people.
Instead of waiting for the road department to show up, the guys fired up their chain saws and got to work clearing timber for a mile and a half out to the highway.
Some cut, others dragged branches off to the side.
In four hours the job was done.
Proud as I was, I could do without a repeat of that historic storm. But I rest easy with firewood on the porch, my doorman’s rocker pulled up to the hearth and cat food in the pantry.
BOAT DOCK IS FELINE OUTDOORS COLUMNIST FOR NWA MEDIA. HIS COLUMN APPEARS WHEN HE FEELS LIKE WRITING ONE. WRITE TO BOAT DOCK ON FACEBOOK. SEARCH BOAT DOCK UNDER PEOPLE.
Outdoor, Pages 6 on 02/21/2013