Farewell, Chewbacca

Evie and I walked to the commissary to buy groceries today. When we got home, I couldn't see Chewy anywhere. A minute or two later, he climbed down from the refrigerator, curious to see what we'd brought home.

I was furious. He's not allowed on the counters. I spent a good three weeks with tape on the edges of my kitchen counters, sticky-side up, to help him learn that jumping on them is a no-no. Just last week I took the tape off, thinking that maybe he'd learned.

Clearly, the tape didn't do the trick.

I yelled "bad Chewy!" at him, sprayed him with the water bottle, and put him in the utility room with his litter box for a time-out. THEN I discovered the muffins.

When I left this morning, they were sitting in a ziplock bag on the kitchen counter. When I got home, however, they were in the middle of the living room. The bag was ripped open, the muffins were demolished, and crumbs were all over my carpet.

By this point, I was seeing red. I immediately sat down and began composing my email to the shelter, explaining the situation.

They're going to have to take him back.

If this incident were a one-time thing, I would let it slide. When Chewy first came to live with us, two and a half months ago, he used one of our chairs as a litter box. It was completely ruined, and we had to throw it out. But we figured it was just nerves, and didn't worry about it.

He began spending every night in front of my bedroom door, waiting for a sign of movement, then meowing loudly whenever he thought we might be awake. I thought this might die down, but he still does it. If I wake up in the middle of the night and need to go to the bathroom, I can't make ANY noise, or he'll start meowing and wake everybody up. If Evie needs me during the night, I have to wake Ben up, too, so he can keep Chewy from getting into our bedroom or following us into Evie's. When I get up in the morning, I have to open my bedroom door carefully, and push Chewy out of the way with my foot, or he'll try to get into my room (where he's not allowed to be, because I have a mild cat allergy). Half the time, I end up tripping over him.

He loves to climb, as shown by his insistence on being on the counters (and fridge) in the kitchen. He also likes to bat at things. This has led to pictures being knocked off the walls. No glass or frames have been broken yet, but he's getting bolder. It's only a matter of time.

I have to disinfect the counters and the kitchen table multiple times every day, because Chewy climbs on them. He uses those same feet to clean up after himself when he's in his litter box. I do NOT want those paws on my eating surfaces. But nothing I've done to break that habit has changed anything.

Not only does he climb the counters, he gets into our food. I have to watch him constantly while I'm cooking, for fear that he'll jump on the counter and start eating our dinner. This is not an idle fear - it HAS happened before. There have been multiple times where Evie's dinner had to be thrown out, because Chewy got into it.

When we leave the house or come home, I have to sneak in and out like a fugitive, because Chewy will try to escape. He's not supposed to leave the house. That's what they told us when we adopted him. So I have to watch for him constantly while I'm trying to go through the door. Have you ever tried to get a stroller full of groceries and a dawdling toddler through the front door, while simultaneously preventing your cat from dodging around you and escaping? It's hard. It sucks.

Worst of all, Chewy likes to use his claws to climb on us. Twice now, he has jumped in the air and dangled from my body by his claws, leaving bloody scratches. He's done it to Ben and Evie, too. Since Chewy came into our home, we've gone through two full boxes of Band-Aids for Evie. I hate seeing her covered in bandages. And he doesn't just attack us when we're standing (although that's the most painful), he also jumps on us while he's on his way across the room. It's like we're a part of the furniture, a way to get from one place to another. Since he's usually doing this at high speed, and using his claws to get a good grip, I've gotten multiple bloody contusions that way as well.

But the muffin thing today was the last straw. I had hoped, in spite of the evidence of his time spent on the counters, that we were making progress. I thought maybe we could make things work with this cat. But then I come home to find that, not only is the counter situation unchanged, it's actually gotten worse. We don't have enough money to be able to afford our food being wasted like that.

Chewy thinks he's a person, and therefore entitled to sit on our counters, sleep in our beds, and eat our food. I expected the sense of entitlement, but I've never before met a cat that was THIS bad. I honestly can't do this anymore.

I haven't heard back from the shelter yet, and I hope they don't think I'm the world's worst person. I really tried to make things work with Chewy. I tried for two and a half months. But my whole life has become TONS more stressful. It's like having a really badly-behaved second child, one who disobeys, refuses to learn, and leaves a path of tears and destruction wherever he goes. The difference is, if he WAS my child, I would love him and keep working at helping things get better. It would be worth it, because of that maternal connection. But Chewy's not a child. He's a cat. And I don't love him - he annoys the crap out of me. It's all the stress of a truly awful child, without any of the benefits. I don't need that. My children will give me plenty of gray hairs, I don't need a cat that causes them to an even greater extent. Seriously, my two-year-old is better behaved than my cat!

I do feel bad about sending him away. Evie loves the cat, in spite of the scratches and dinner-stealing. She's an only child so far, and she's a lonely kid. We got this cat for her, so she'd have someone to play with. She's going to be heartbroken when he's gone. But as much as I love her and want her to be happy, I cannot live with this cat! I just hope that she forgets about him quickly, and that we can give her a brother or sister to play with soon. Siblings make better friends than animals, anyhow. And when she's older, and can take care of a pet by herself, we'll probably try again.

But next time, we're getting a dog!

Casting Fablehaven

I've taken it upon myself to cast the upcoming Fablehaven movies. ;) Not really, I've just been thinking about which actors would do well in what roles, and these are what I came up with.



Kendra - Dakota Fanning. Duh. She's an amazing actress, and she looks the
part. She might be slightly too old by the time they start filming,
but she has a youthful appearance and she'd still be able to pull it off.




Seth - I know he's British, but Freddy Highmore has already shown that he can pull off an American accent. He's an extremely talented actor, and while he's definitely too old (did you know he just turned SEVENTEEN????) he still looks 12. I realize that things could change, and he might suddenly start looking his age, in which case we'd have to find someone else. But all the actors I've seen who would have been able to pull off "Seth" are getting too old - chances are, we'd need a fresh face. But someone like Freddy Highmore would be great - someone who looks mischevious.



Grandpa Sorenson - Never mind his tendancy to play gangsters, Robert De Niro is one of the best actors of our time. He's the right age, and has the right look (if you ask me) to play Grandpa. And after Meet the Parents, we know he can do comedy. Doing family-friendly movies shouldn't be a stretch.





Grandma Sorenson - Jane Lynch is a little on the young side, but she looks tough, like Grandma Sorenson is supposed to be. I haven't seen her in a lot of shows, but I've seen a few, and she's got the chops to pull it off. I think she could be great as Grandma.




Dale - It's hard to find a normal-looking actor. They all seem to be more beautiful than regular people. Dale, as we all know, is supposed to be pretty average, even a little awkward and geeky. My first thought was the kid from Juno, but he's only 19. So I thought back to other shows I enjoyed in the past, and Xander from Buffy came to mind. The actor's name is Nicholas Brendon, and he's recently been on Criminal Minds, even geekier than he was in Buffy. I thought he would make a great Dale!




Lena - You might remember her from the TV show Lost - Yunjin Kim is beautiful, talented, and Asian (just like Lena is supposed to be). Since Lena maintains her youthful face throughout the series, even when she's "old", it makes most sense to have one actress for the role, and use makeup to age her. Yunjin Kim would make an incredible Lena, if you ask me.






Muriel - Remember the cute old lady from The Wedding Singer? Her name is Ellen Alberti Dow and I think she'd make a great Muriel. She's tiny and ancient, and while most of the time the characters she plays are endearing, I have little doubt that she could pull off Muriel extremely well. Then, after Muriel is released and uses her magic to become young and gorgeous, Charlize Theron would make a great Muriel. Her face is shaped much like Ellen's, small and round, so they could convincingly play the same person. She's very classically beautiful, and her face seems almost innocent, which means she'd be that much scarier.




The Sphinx - Isaiah Washingon. I've only seen him in a few things, but if I remember correctly, he's got that great, deep, mellow voice the Sphinx is supposed to have. His skin isn't as dark as described in the book, but makeup can take care of that. And he's got a handome, mature, knowing kind of face.



Vanessa - This is one I'm torn on. Angelina Jolie would have been the obvious choice, but it's almost TOO obvious. Not to mention, you'd probably have to pay her an arm and a leg. So I'm torn between two actresses who are (slightly) lesser-known: Eliza Dushku and Erica Durance.
Eliza has the talent, no question. Her new show Dollhouse has her playing a different kind of character every week. But her face isn't classically stunning, the way Vanessa is supposed to be. She's beautiful, but it's almost in a weird way. Erica Durance is much more classically gorgeous, but having only seen her in Smallville, I couldn't tell you how strong an actress she is. She's great as Lois Lane, but can she do more? I'm not sure. She'd have to have darker hair if she were to play Vanessa, though. Good thing dyes and wigs are so easy to come by in Hollywood. :)




Tanu - There is a shortage of Polynesian actors in Hollywood. I know that Dwayne Johnson isn't what I pictured for Tanu, but who else is there? He's big, that's for sure, so he meets that qualification. He's also proved that he can do family-friendly movies. So until someone better suited to the character comes along, The Rock has my vote.




Coulter - Dustin Hoffman is one of the best actors alive! He can play any character! Who better to play paranoid, crusty, soft-on-the-inside, complicated Coulter? That one is a no-brainer.





Warren - I realize I'm a little biased here, but I love Milo Ventimiglia. He was great in Gilmore Girls, he's great in Heroes, and he was great in Rocky Balboa. When I think of Warren, I picture Milo. He's got the dark hair, he's slim but muscular, and he's extremely handsome. He's already proved he can play a hero, and that's what Warren is when you get down to it. And he and Nicholas Brendon look similar enough, I think they could pass for brothers.



Gavin - He's by far one of my absolute favorite characters in Fablehaven. You have to love the little romance between him and Kendra. Plus, the stutter is adorable. An endearing character like that needs an endearing actor to play him. Taylor Lautner hasn't done a lot, but he's currently making a name for himself, playing Jacob Black in the Twilight movies. He's so cute, I want to take him home and put him on my shelf. He makes me smile. He's tall, handsome, and muscular, too. He certainly looks like he could tame a dragon. And he's only a couple of years older than Dakota Fanning, which fits the age difference between the characters. And, like Gavin, he looks like there's more to him than meets the eye.



Patton Burgess - The world's greatest adventurer requires a smooth, handsome, action-hero type actor to play his character. The first person who came to mind (for me, at least) was the newest James Bond - Daniel Craig. He's not as youthful as I think the Patton Burgess we get to meet in book #3 would be, but he's handsome, and makeup does wonders. He's certainly got the physique, and he makes the ladies' hearts melt, the same way Patton does. Plus, I bet he'd look really hot in the old-school-style costume.


I realize this doesn't cover all the characters from the books. We still have the satyrs, the centaurs, Dougan, Mara, Rosa, Hal, Maddox, the parents, not to mention numerous fairies, demons, etc. But these are the mainest characters, and I think that's enough for now. :) After all, I'm not REALLY casting the movie. All those other characters are someone else's problem. ;)

Vampires = Us?

So I'm reading the Twilight series again, and I was thinking about the way Stephenie Meyer describes the vampires. They look like they did as humans, only they're perfect and therefore insanely beautiful. They don't age. They can run, leap, swim, etc. with impossible endurance. They've accumulated decades of intelligence, learning just about everything there is to know.

Meyer, like me, is LDS. So it occurred to me that she might be basing her vampire descriptions, ever so slightly, on what we may (possibly) become after the resurrection. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying this is doctrine or that this is for sure what she's doing. It just strikes me that there are similarities, at least to my understanding of what we will be like in the next life.

The way I understand it, once we're resurrected we'll be physically perfect versions of our best selves. Like I said, this is just my conception of things, I could be completely wrong. But that's how I always imagined it. We wouldn't age, physically. Our learning would continually increase. And I always pictured that, being in perfect physical condition, we'd be able to run and swim without getting tired. I also pictured that, as we learned and grew, we might someday be able to defy the laws of physics in some ways. I've always dreamed of being able to fly someday. I don't know if it's possible, but if it is, I plan to learn how. All my favorite dreams have involved flying. I know, Meyer's vampires don't fly, but running at ridiculous speeds is probably just as exhilarating.

Anyway, maybe I'm completely off-base with all this, but there do seem to be a lot of similarities between the Twilight vampires and (in my mind, at least) the way we'll all be after the resurrection. Granted, we don't be drinking blood or fighting with werewolves, but I think overall I'm okay with that. :)

Sappy Sucker

I am a total sap. I love watching shows like CSI and ER and all sorts of other things that only have initials. At the same time, though, watching these kinds of shows sometimes breaks my heart. Far too often there's a case that involves kids dying. No matter how many times I've seen the same kind of thing before, it kills me. Even reminding myself that it's just a TV show doesn't help. Seeing those little bodies, not moving, breaks my heart. Seeing the parents grieve over the loss of their child makes me bawl like a little baby, too. And of course kids' deaths are not the only sob-inducing storylines out there.

And yet, I continue to watch these shows, even though I know I'll more than likely run across more traumatizing episodes. Why do I do this?

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. But I do have a few theories.

In a way, I believe that watching shows that show the dark side of life can be really helpful. When you know what's out there, you can be better prepared. I realize these shows are fiction, and that a lot of things are portrayed differently from how they occur in reality. But even so, I think I've learned a lot from watching these programs. I know that there's evil in the world, which makes me work harder to protect myself and my family. I also know that tragedy can strike anyway, no matter how safely you're living. That's not a happy topic, I know. But because I've thought about how my own life would be impacted by tragedy, thanks to the situations portrayed on TV, I feel better prepared to meet whatever challenges come my way.

I also think that I've learned a lot of empathy from these shows. When you let your guard down, and allow yourself to become involved in someone's story (the way one does when watching TV), you are affected by it. You learn to feel what other people are feeling. I think this can translate to real life. I've noticed that I can get choked up over a tragedy I read about in the news just as easily as I get choked up over a TV show. Hopefully this will make me a better person to have as a friend when bad things happen to the people I love. Maybe I can be a listening ear and a supportive shoulder for someone who needs it, and be more effective at it, thanks to the empathy I've developed partly from watching shows like CSI, ER, etc. (I do like to think that maybe some of it comes naturally, though).

Last but certainly not least, it's important to know that the good guys can win. Granted, they don't show on TV that they lose a lot of the time, too, but I believe that it's easier to deal with trials when you have hope that things will turn out right in the end. I have a testimony that, even if the "bad guys" win in this life, things will even out in the next. But that's not something a lot of people really believe. Having hope that the good guys will win can help those people when bad stuff happens. Hope can be a terrible thing sometimes, but I believe it's vital.

Anyway, I think those are probably some of the reasons I enjoy these shows so much. It helps, I'm sure, that they're also entertaining. But I like to think that maybe they can make my life happier and better in some ways, too, beyond mere entertainment power.

That way I don't have to feel guilty about being a couch potato. :)

Tribute to Mr. Buchanan

I can't believe they killed off Bill Buchanan on 24. He was one of the best characters, in my opinion, and it's tragic to have witnessed his demise. Granted, he went out with a bang (no pun intended). Not only did he die with style, he did it saving the life of the President, and numerous hostages. He was a hero. I'm hoping they hold a really good funeral for him, although with all the work Jack Bauer will have to do to save the day, we probably won't get to see it. Not to mention, they'd have to throw that funeral together REALLY fast.

As far as fictional characters go, Buchanan was truly a gem. In every season of 24 (since he appeared in season 4) he's been a rock, always doing everything in his power to stop the bad guys and save the day, but always keeping his morals, too. He wasn't a wild card like Jack Bauer, he wouldn't go to the same extremes, but he was very good at his job. He wasn't afraid to put his own life on the line, that's for sure.

I know he's not a real person, but I really admired the character. He was like the tough, super-awesome "dad" type character, and he was one of my favorites. When the clock came up after his death, and it was silent (like it always is when an agent dies), I just about lost it. It's amazing how attached people become to fictional characters, isn't it?

In any case, 24 will never be the same. :(

Memory

The Hale in Salt Lake is doing Scarlet Pimpernel again this year, and I wish SO BAD that I could be in it. I was in it the last time they did it, in '04 (I think), and it was insanely cool. They have a million dollar stage at the Hale. It rotates, and raises up and lowers (all together, or in pieces). They used the actual Broadway costumes, which were ridiculously beautiful and extremely expensive. The ball gowns had gold stitched into them, and were worth about a thousand dollars each. The show itself is fun to be in, too. I was in the women's ensemble (as most girls were, there were only 2 female non-ensemble parts), and while normally that wouldn't be too exciting, in this case it was great. We were in almost every scene. We did a lot of dancing, singing, escaping from revolutionaries, crying in prison cells, etc. I had about 10 costumes. The theater itself is very classy, too. I remember walking in for my audition and being intimidated. Why would such a gorgeous theater want me in their show, especially such a popular show that LOTS of people want to be a part of? But they did cast me (which in and of itself is apparently a big deal - I was told that most people have to audition 2 or 3 times for shows at the Hale before they get cast in something)! And Pimpernel broke all their previous sales records. It was an amazing spectacle, and it was an honor to be a part of it. I don't know that I've ever had more fun in a show, ever.

One of the most amazing things about doing Pimpernel, though, was that some of the leadership of the Church came to see it. Granted, for a non-member, it's not a big deal, but for me it was amazing. I actually embarassed myself in front of Elder Ballard and his wife. They were sneaking out for intermission early, to avoid crowds. The ensemble was about to make an entrance to sing in the end of "The Riddle", and we were waiting in the hallway. While we were waiting, I was kind of bored, so I was mouthing the words and doing a sort of interpretive dance to the music for the amusement of my friends in the cast. It was pretty goofy. I turned around, and Elder and Sister Ballard were standing right there, watching me. Sister Ballard looked like she was trying not to laugh, and Elder Ballard was looking at me like I was nuts. I was so embarassed! My first thought was, "I hope he doesn't bring this up in General Conference." Not that he would have any reason to, but I wasn't thinking too clearly. Nowadays, I just find the memory of it highly entertaining.

The coolest thing, though, was that Preident Monson came to see it. He wasn't the President of the Church at the time, just the first counselor in the Presidency ("JUST" the first counselor...), but still. It was electrifying to be onstage, performing, knowing that he was watching me. A man who has spoken to God, a man whose counsel I try to live by, a man who I love and respect but have never had the honor to actually MEET, watched me perform! And now he's our prophet, just like Moses and Abraham back in the day. It's such an incredible honor to say that I've performed for him. He couldn't pick me out of a line-up, I know, but that doesn't matter. It's still a memory that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

All in all, being part of Pimpernel was one of the best things I've ever done. It's a sweet memory, and I wish more than just about anything that I could do it again. I'm so jealous of all the people who are going to be in it this year. They're going to have the time of their lives.

Tornado

I peered through my windshield, examining the blanket of clouds above me. The weather channel hadn't mentioned any storm warnings, but this was tornado season in Oklahoma. As someone who had never lived around tornadoes before, the very idea of them left me cold and nervous.

Evie was singing softly to herself in the back seat, watching out the window for signs of planes. "There's Daddy!" she would yell whenever she saw one, excited by the idea that the plane overhead might be her father's.

I smiled to myself, adoring the little girl in the seat behind me. Evie was by far the sweetest, most adorable two-year-old on the planet. I joined her in singing "Changes" from the Shrek 2 soundtrack as we continued our drive to the store.

The week before, Ben had discovered a quicker way to Wal-Mart. By turning a mile early and taking the country roads, we could avoid a lot of traffic and lights. It was this road I was currently traveling on. Vance Air Force base was a mile away on the left, and the town of Enid was about the same distance away on my right. Immediately around us were nothing but houses and farmland. I noticed a ditch on either side of the road, for water to drain into whenever it rained. I made a mental note, reminding myself that a ditch is a good place to be if you're caught outside when a twister touches down.

We pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot. As I climbed out of the car, a cold wind whipped my hair around my face. I pulled my jacket tighter, shivering. It was supposed to get to almost 90 degrees later in the week, but you'd never know that from the wind we were getting.

After unbuckling Evie and locking the car, the two of us headed into the store. I grabbed a cart and slipped Evie (and Horton, her stuffed toy elephant) into the seat, buckling them in. We made our way into the store, searching for the items on our shopping list.

I took my time, wandering up and down isles. Shopping has always been a relaxing errand for me. I derive pleasure from hunting down the things on my list. I know that lots of people, my husband included, find shopping tedious and bothersome, but I genuinely enjoy it. There's something about performing such a simple, familiar errand that makes me happy.

After an hour and a half of searching, comparing brands and prices, making decisions, and paying for our groceries, we were done. Evie, Horton and I began making our way back out to the car with our purchases.

As we moved out of the warm building, the wind caught me full in the face. I gasped, shocked by the force of the air. Evie's hat flew off of her head, and would have gone tumbling down the street if I'd had lesser reflexes. I caught it and crammed it into my purse, where the wind couldn't snatch it away. Evie and I both squinted against the wind, which was blowing our hair into our eyes. She clutched Horton closer to her chest, fearful of losing him.

I ran to the car and threw the groceries in the trunk. After returning the shopping cart, Evie and I ran back to the car and climbed inside, relieved to be out of the wind. I quickly strapped Evie into her car seat, then turned on the car. We were only ten minutes from home, and I wanted to get there as quickly as possible. The weather had me worried.

I looked up through my windshield, just as I had not two hours before, and stared at the sky. It was only noon, but the sky had darkened so much, it felt more like late afternoon. The clouds overhead had become thicker, darker, more ominous. They seemed almost angry, churning and thrashing in the heavy winds. As I was examining them, they broke open. A heavy rain came pouring out of the skies, drenching my windshield.

An involuntary shiver went down my spine. I shook my head, trying to put aside all the thoughts of tornadoes and destruction that were crowding my mind. The chances that we would get hit by a twister on our ten-minute drive home were slim. My overactive imagination was doing me no favors. I flicked on the windshield wipers, put the car in gear, and headed home.

I tried to keep the mood light, worried that Evie would sense my nervousness. We sang our ABC's and practiced counting to ten as we traveled, heading back down the country road toward home.

"Wait! Shh," I hushed Evie. There was a sound, off in the distance. Over the cries of the wind, I thought I heard a loud wailing noise coming from Vance. It sounded like the tornado sirens were going off.

I peered out the windows, trying to spot a tornado through the lashing rain.

I couldn't see anything. Maybe it was all in my head. After all, I had been told multiple times by the local people that nothing in Enid or Vance had been destroyed by a tornado in over 40 years. Enid was apparently build on sacred Native American ground. The tornadoes always managed to avoid the town, staying in the countryside between the town and the Air Force base...

My heart stopped, frozen in my chest. That's where we were driving! We were right smack in the middle of twister territory!

I forgot all about trying to control my fear. I stared out at the sky, barely paying attention to the road I was driving on. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something in the rear view mirror.

In the distance, spinning and twisting like an insane nightmare, a tornado had touched down. A thick cloud of dirt and dust had formed at the base. The tornado was rapidly gaining size and strength, sucking up and throwing junk and shrapnel into anything unfortunate enough to cross its path.

A burst of adrenaline shocked my heart, starting it racing. Panicked, I hit the gas, praying that we could make it to safety. The twister was growing, however, and seemed to be getting closer despite my efforts to outrace it. I realized that I was gasping, hyperventilating. A strange, high-pitched squeak was coming from my throat.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Evie asked from her seat in the back, completely oblivious to the danger we were in. I snapped my mouth shut, trying to breathe normally. Silently, I began praying, tears running down my cheeks.

"Father, I don't know what to do! Please help me! Please don't let us die out here!" I pleaded, begging for help from the best source I could think of.

A thought entered my mind, clear and sharp. The ditch. Of course! A wave of peace washed over me, and I knew what I had to do.

Peering through the rain and darkness, I examined the ditch running alongside the road. Just ahead, it looked like there was a drain pipe that passed beneath the driveway of one of the nearby houses. It looked to be about three feet in diameter - hopefully big enough to hold us, strong enough to protect us from any debris from the oncoming tornado, and low enough in the ditch not to cause a wind tunnel.

As quickly as I could without wrecking the car, I pulled over. I ripped the keys out of the ignition, stuffed them into my purse, and opened the door. The force of the wind nearly ripped the car door off its hinges. I climbed out, and was instantly soaked. The rain felt like pebbles being hurled into my face. My jacket was whipping against my back like something alive, my hair blowing in mad, wet tangles around my face. My purse was nearly sucked off of my shoulder, but I held on tight to it. When this was all over, we would probably need to call for help, and my cell phone was in that bag.

With difficulty, I managed to get to Evie's door. It slammed open against my arm, causing me to shriek in pain. Evie, terrified, was struggling against her straps, trying to get to the safety of my arms. "Hold still! Hold still!" I yelled at her, trying to make myself audible over the screaming wind.

I struggled with her seat belt. For some reason, I couldn't get the buckle undone. My fingers didn't seem to be working right. Frustrated and scared beyond belief, I yanked hard on the strap, screaming, "STOP!" To my surprise, the buckle popped open. Evie pulled her arms out of the straps, grabbed Horton, and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I pulled Evie out of the car and bolted for the drain. Evie's arms were so tight, they were nearly cutting off my airway. I barely noticed. My one thought was to get my child to safety.

As I began sliding down into the ditch, an especially strong gust of wind came up, snatching Horton out of Evie's hand. It sent him bouncing away, across the road top, towards the nearing twister. "Horton!" Evie screamed into my ear, "Mama! Get Horton!" I just shook my head, knowing that Horton was long gone. We had to worry about staying alive.

Faintly, I heard something that sounded like a train, coming up behind us. I glanced over my shoulder. The tornado was closing in fast. Momentarily frozen, I watched it, wide-eyed. The train sound was growing louder. I realized that it was the tornado making the sound.

I sprinted for the pipe, covering the remaining distance in a few large bounds. I crawled into the pipe with difficulty, Evie's arms and legs still wrapped around me. I lay down as best I could, trying to avoid the rain water rushing through, but knowing Evie and I were so soaked that it probably didn't matter.

Evie was sobbing, tired and exhausted. "Mama, where's Horton?" she asked. The question broke my heart. My eyes filled with tears, and I told her, "Honey, the wind took him away. I'm sorry. We'll try to find him later, okay?" Red-eyed, she nodded, and snuggled closer to my body, trying to keep warm.

The tornado was getting closer. Over the shriek of the wind, I heard it, chug-a-chugging like a train from hell. I raised my head up, enough to look out of the pipe, and saw it, not 20 feet away. My car was shaking, bouncing on its wheels, like it knew what was about to happen. The twister hit the car, swallowing it with its dust cloud. I heard the torturous scream of metal being ripped apart. Fearful of the resulting shrapnel being thrown through the air, I lay back down and curled my body around Evie's, trying to keep her safe.

The noise was deafening. This is it, I thought. This is where we find out if we're going to live or die.

I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to see what was happening. I had one of my arms wrapped around Evie's head, trying to cover her eyes and ears as well. The other arm held her to me tightly. Whatever happened, I was not going to let this monster take my baby from me.

We lay there for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the sound began getting softer, until it disappeared altogether. The winds weren't howling so loudly anymore, either. Even the rain, which had been rushing like a small river through our hiding place, had slowed.

Tentatively, I opened my eyes. The light I could see outside the pipe seemed different, somehow. It was brighter, and somehow comforting. Evie and I sat up, and I made my way to the end of the pipe, chancing a look around.

The cloud cover had broken. The sun was shining through the gaps, lighting the surrounding countryside. Where the tornado had been raging, wisps of cloud floated in the air. The ground around us was littered with all kinds of debris, including -

"Horton!" I gasped. "Evie, I see Horton!"

Evie popped her head out of the pipe, searching for her friend. "Horton?"

I crawled out of the storm pipe, picked Evie up, and hurried over to where Horton was laying. He was dirty, tattered, and soaking wet, but he seemed to be all in one piece.

"What do you say we take Horton home and get him cleaned up? Get all of us cleaned up?"

"Yay!" Evie hugged Horton tightly, not caring about his disheveled condition. I hugged Evie just as fiercely, gladder than I'd ever before been to be alive.

We'd made it through the storm.