“Sure. But they couldn’t handle this current. I can barely stand up.” Cowboy shakes his head. “Look, I’ll borrow my brother’s bass boat. We’ll come right back. Hopefully the water won’t get much higher than this.”

“Okay, then.” Boots gives a grim nod. “Stay calm, friends.”

Like that’s an option.

preparing for the worst

The wind slows for a moment and the room goes silent. We stare at the black pool swallowing the cages below.

A chew toy shaped like a pink turtle floats past.

It’s just us and a whole lot of water.

I check out the group. Two cats. One bunny. Six dogs, including Snickers, Boss, and me. There’s nowhere to jump. No tables, no cabinets. No space above the upper cages.

And as Cowboy pointed out, the current is probably too strong for us to tackle, anyways.

“Folks, don’t give up hope. You heard them,” I say. “They’re coming back for us.”

“No way are they coming back,” says a sad-faced beagle mix. “Gimme a break.”

“You never know,” I say. I am such a lousy liar.

“Oh, yes we do,” my sister mutters, just loud enough for me to hear, and we share a look.

“Look, chances are the water won’t get too much higher,” I say. “But just to be on the safe side, pile up anything you have in your cage. Bowls, toys, towels.”

“Who died and made you pack leader?” asks a big mutt with a graying snout.

“Well, it beats howling like babies,” I say, and instantly I remember landing in Stretch’s domain. Howling like a baby is exactly what I did.

“I had a dog biscuit this morning bigger than you,” says Gray Muzzle.

“What about me?” someone squeaks. “Does the bunny get a vote?”

“Hold on, Thumper,” says the orange cat. “This clearly is a job for a higher feline intellect.”

“No!” A sharp voice rises above the din. “Listen to Bob. He’s annoying. And his hygiene leaves a lot to be desired. But I’ve seen him get himself out of all kinds of scrapes.”

“Thanks for the props, Snick,” I say. “Especially the kind words about my odor.”

The wind groans, and something metallic hits the side of the building. We fall silent again, waiting for more.

The windows rattle. The walls shudder. It’s like the building is as scared as the rest of us.

“So,” Snickers says, breaking the gloom, “you heard Bob. Start stacking!”

“How about my litter box?” asks a small, white cat with dark green eyes. “Would that work?”

“Sure,” I say. “Use anything. The goal is to get as high as you can.”

“And then what?” asks a young dachshund.

“Worst case, we swim for it,” I say.

“That’s actually not the worst case,” says the bunny.

No one asks what is. We already know.

a question

We do all we can do. Which isn’t much.