Evacuation Cat

Here, the oldest of our two cats contemplates her reflection and queries the meaning of life and identity.

This was in a hotel I’d had found in Spartantburg that took cats during one of our hurricane evacuations (sometimes called a hurri-cation).

I don’t recall which hurricane excatly because, after a while, all the named storms that came through during the eleven years we lived in Chalreston began to blur together.

I could probably find it in my journals, though.