Thunderstorms and Thundercats

I can definitely tell it's December in Hawaii, we've barely had a dry day in over a week. My house actually gave up the fight for a random five minutes the other night when it decided to spring a leak at the juncture where one of my rooms adjoins another. It gushed and gushed and then just stopped. This is why I have ferns growing out of my roof... yes, my roof. My house is so old that sometimes I think the roots of those ferns are the only thing holding my roof on.
So for those of you who actually read this blog, you'll know all about my little cat colony I have living under my fern ridden house. For those who don't or don't remember, I had a pregnant female move in recently and had to go through the arduous task of getting her and her five children fixed so they wouldn't start multiplying like trebbles(tribbles? I don't know). Anyway, they've stuck around and are finally getting friendly and allowing me to pet them...while they eat. So I decided to try naming one.
The one I chose to name was of course the rattiest of the bunch(I have a thing for misfits). He's a black cat with yellow eyes who cries when he sees his mother. He also caught a cold recently with all the bad weather and has had a rather bad run of it.
So I looked at this cat and thought, he's a beautiful yet creepy guy with Mommy issues. I'll name him Dexter. and in the way of all male cats, he seems to know that he's been named and assumes this means that he's also been claimed and therefore entitled to special treatment.
Even when all the other kitties are gone, Dexter is sure to be found lurking somewhere around my house. Maybe it's just because I pulled that feather off his nose(it was firmly attached with kitty snot-I told you he had a cold- and took a bit of pulling to get loose). Anyway, I found him crying on my porch the other day in the midst of the worst rainstorm. The food dishes had been soaked and scattered by the wind and Dexter was sitting there waiting for me, soaked as well. If you've never seen a wet crying kitten, you have no idea what pathetic is.
So I felt really bad for him and fed him some special wet food in the garage. I know, as if he weren't wet enough already but trust me, it was a treat he won't forget because the next day he was right at my door when I came out in the morning, crying at me and trying to look as pitiful as possible. That cat's playing me like a fiddle. Under that pathetic ragged kitten exterior lies a Thundercat who knows a sucker when he sees one. Oh well, I used to love that show.
Thundercats, Ho!