Storm Rescue Read Online Free PDF

forward a little more with the help of the hooked rug by my bed. “Come on out, Mittens. Please?”
    Mittens howls again. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see that her ears are pricked toward me. Obviously she hears me—but she still isn’t coming out. After a moment, she creeps forward a little bit and meows uncertainly. Her black-and-white fur is fluffed up, and her tail twitches nervously.
    â€œCome on, pretty girl,” I coax her. “That’s right. Come on out.”
    It takes a while, but finally I get her to come close enough for me to grab her. I pull her out as carefully as I can, hoping that she’s not injured or sick. Please just let it be the weather, like Mr. Jermaine says. I carry her into the bathroom across the hall and shut the door so that she can’t get away from me. Now there are fewer places for her to hide.
    As soon as I put her down, she crouches low. There’s a distant boom of thunder. It’s not very loud, but Mittens jerks her head around nervously, yowls, then leaps straight into the air, almost knocking over the white wicker towel caddy as she races over to wedge herself behind the toilet. Black fur floats in the air behind her. She’s shedding like crazy. That’s what most cats do when they’re nervous.
    I sigh. “I don’t think you’re sick, sweetie,” I say, leaning back against the whitewashed vanity cabinet. “It’s just Hurricane Felix. You should be glad you aren’t Lucy. Not only is she weirded out by the weather like you are, but she has a broken leg, too.”
    Thoughts about Lucy distract me. She must really have been scared to jump out of Mrs. Clark’s arms like that. I hope she eats all her food tonight.
    Mittens lets out another yowl, which brings me back to the here and now. My poor kitty’s peering out from her hiding place, looking terrified. From what I can see out the bathroom window, I can’t really blame her. The sky is dark and ominous, and rain is slashing against the glass as if it’s trying to break in.
    I talk to Mittens for a few more minutes, trying to comfort her. But she doesn’t even seem to hear me. We’ll have to wait for the storm to pass. I wonder how long that’ll be? I decide to check the Internet.
    Figuring that Mittens will probably feel safest in her original hiding spot, I let her out of the bathroom. Sure enough, she races straight for my room and darts under the bed again.
    Â 
 
“Well?” Mother asks when I go back downstairs. “Did you see her?”
    â€œUh-huh. I think she wants to be alone right now. She’s just scared of Hurricane Felix,” I explain. “Is it all right if I turn on the computer? I want to see how much longer this storm will last.”
    â€œAll right,” she says. “But if that lightning gets any closer, turn it off right way.”
    I nod and head into the den. As soon as I get online, I check the weather site we have book-marked. The satellite image shows one band of rain clouds after another, with the storm’s eye hovering around the coast of Virginia. Then I type the word hurricane into a search engine. About a zillion sites come up. “Hmm,” I murmur, scanning the first few on the list. “Guess I should be more specific.”
    This time I type the words hurricane and pets . Soon I’m skimming an article about getting your pets safely through a weather emergency. It says that every family should have a plan of action before disaster strikes.
    â€œIt’s a little late for that,” I mutter, glancing at the rain pounding against the window.
    I read a little further. Uh-oh. The site says that Red Cross emergency shelters can’t take in animals, except for service dogs such as guide dogs for the blind. That can’t be right. I hit the “back” button to return to my search results and check another page. But it says the same thing. In fact, it