The kitten and the storm

Smoky was a little gray kitten with a white spot at the tip of his tail. That evening, he was playing with a ball of yarn when the sky turned dark.

A white flash lit up the kitchen. Then BOOM! went the thunder. Smoky jumped in the air, fur standing on end, and shot under the cupboard. He made himself small and round, ears flat.

Mama Cat came over, taking her time. She lay down right in front of the cupboard and began to purr, a low, steady purr like a little engine. "Boom goes the sky," she said. "Purr goes Mama."

BOOM! went the thunder again. Smoky trembled. "Boom goes the sky," Mama Cat said again. "Purr goes Mama." And she purred a little louder. Smoky pushed one paw out from under the cupboard, then two, and came to snuggle against her warm tummy.

The rain started. It tapped on the window, tap, tap, tap, like lots of tiny paws running across the glass. "Hear that?" said Mama Cat. "The rain is playing tag on the window." Smoky listened, and his ears came up a little.

The thunder came back, but farther away, behind the hill. Boom... very small. "Boom goes the sky," Smoky whispered. "Purr goes Mama." Mama Cat licked the top of his head, right between his ears.

They climbed into the basket by the radiator. The rain kept up its tap, tap, tap. The last boom was so far away they could barely hear it. Smoky buried his nose in his mama's fur, tail curled around his paws, and fell asleep to the sound of her purring.