Sneaky Pie For President

Hanging Out

At 2:30 A.M., forty-mile-an-hour winds (with sixty-mile-an-hour gusts) hit the house like Thor’s fist. Despite double-glazed windows, the wind whistled through the tiniest apertures. It whooshed down chimneys, throwing fine soot up from the fireplaces into the air.

Sneaky Pie, asleep on the C.O.’s pillow, awakened with a start. Pewter was out cold on the other pillow. Below, on the rug by the bed, the two dogs also opened their eyes.

“That shook the whole house,” Tucker remarked.

“Been a long time since we’ve had wind like that.” Sneaky stretched, jumped off the bed.

“Come on.” Tally led the way to the kitchen. Outside the windows, the sky was pitch black.

“Here comes the rain.” Tucker was startled for a moment when the rain smacked the house with force. “It’s like it’s come all at once. No lead-up.”

“Strange.” Tally listened to the wind rattle the shutters on the windows. “We’re going to have a lot to clean up tomorrow.”

“At least the horses, and Addie and Great Bess, will be all right,” Sneaky noted. “They’ve got their run-in sheds.”

“Half the time they stand out in the rain.” Tucker shook her head. “Once I asked Addie why she did that, and she said the rain felt good on her heavy coat. Rinsed the dirt and dust out.”

“She can always swim in the river,” Tally said.

“The cows do sometimes. The horses go in the river, in the pond, and in the water troughs, but I bet they’re not out in this mess,” Tucker observed. As she was speaking, the sky lit up hot pink, a blinding flash followed by a roar of thunder that must have sounded like the huge cannon, Big Bertha, in World War I.

All three animals jumped.

“Where’d you go?” Pewter skidded into the room, eyes wide. “You left me!”

“You were dead to the world,” Sneaky Pie informed her.

Pewter jumped onto the counter, peered out the kitchen window over the sink. “Black as the devil’s eyebrows.”

Just then another searing flash caused her to blink and move away from the window. A tremendous clap of thunder sounded directly overhead. It seemed the sky was falling.

“Good Lord,” Tucker exclaimed.

“That hurt my eyes.” Pewter jumped down to the floor.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sneaky Pie agreed.

The rain lashed on the house so loudly, the thunder boomed so steadily, that the four animals didn’t hear human footsteps padding down the hall.

Pewter ran to the C.O., rubbing on her leg. “I’m scared.”

“All right, Pewter.” The human picked up the rotund kitty, who hid her face in the person’s neck.

She clicked on the lights. Walking to the porch, she switched on the outside light. The rain was so heavy, there was nothing to be seen.

“Mother, it’s going to be a big day tomorrow,” Tucker said, preparing her for the work ahead.

“Let’s check the basement.” The C.O. opened the door, wooden steps reverberating as she descended, followed by the three animals.

Pewter remained on her shoulder.

Tally ran over to the puddle forming in a corner of the basement. “Roof’s leaking again.”

“Dammit. Dammit to hell.” The C.O. put Pewter down on a low table there, grabbed a bucket kept for this purpose, and put it where the water dripped. “Come on.”

They hurried back upstairs, the thunder deafening as their human grabbed a powerful flashlight from a kitchen drawer. Down the hall they trotted, Pewter bringing up the rear.

Pulling a stepladder out of the hall closet, the C.O. set it up under a trapdoor, climbed up, and lifted the heavy door, propping it open.

She shined the light around before descending again. Hurrying into the kitchen, she pulled out a bucket from under the sink, returned, and climbed up again with bucket and flashlight. The cats were already in the attic, as were many bats hanging upside down.

“Cats,” one of the bats warned the others.

“Don’t worry. We’re here to fix the leak,” Pewter thoughtfully said.

“You won’t fix it tonight.” A second bat swung a little upside down as he watched the human hoist herself up onto the attic floor.

“The bucket should catch the worst of it,” said Sneaky. “Tomorrow she’ll get up on the roof, unless it’s too wet.”

The C.O. beheld all the bats. “Too much rain for you all, too,” as she walked over to the drip, constant and strong now.

Sneaky looked up where the flashlight beam revealed a tear. “The wind did it. Tore a little piece of the tin roof right off.”

The human said nothing, positioned the bucket, and shivered a bit. The temperature had dropped.

“Will she kill us later?” another bat asked the cats. “Now that she’s seen us?”

“No,” Sneaky assured them. “She likes you all. You, Barn Swallows, Tree Swallows, and Purple Martins eat so many insects. You’re safe.”

“How unusual.” The second bat stopped swinging. “Most humans fear us.”

“She knows better,” Pewter called up.

“Interesting,” the first bat remarked. “People think we’ll tangle in their hair or give them rabies.”

“Makes me so mad,” the second bat complained. “We don’t have any more rabies than possums or raccoons, but we get blamed for everything.”

“Humans are afraid of the dark. You all fly in ziggy ways. You’re night creatures. It’s the way they’re made,” Sneaky sagely noted. “Listen. I want to change the subject. I am going to run for president, and I’m hoping you will help me.”

Not one bat said a word. They just hung there.

Pewter nudged Sneaky. “Maybe they don’t know what president is.”

“We know,” the third bat responded. “What a terrible job.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Sneaky, “but it will take a nonhuman to solve the really big problems: food, water, depleting the soil. That kind of stuff. The humans have lost their way. They talk about the environment, but they don’t really live in it, you know what I mean?” Sneaky was getting revved up again.

“I believe that,” said Bat Number Three. “Do you see how bright their cities are at night? We don’t even fly into Crozet, there’s so much light. We’ve heard there are enormous cities, millions of people, and those places are lit up all night.”

“It’s true,” said Pewter. “The energy consumed is wasteful. It’s one thing if the electricity comes from Niagara Falls, but most electricity does not.” Pewter didn’t like electricity one bit.

“Why do they do this? Live in light like that? Doesn’t that disturb their sleep?” The first bat just couldn’t understand this.

“Like I said, they’re afraid of the dark,” Sneaky repeated.

“They’re afraid of one another.” Pewter accurately identified the problem. “Who could blame them?”

“Ah,” all the bats said in unison and swung a bit as another mighty clap of thunder rattled the windows, winds buffeting the attic.

“Do this for me,” said Sneaky. “I will represent you as best I can. I don’t know how much money you save humans by eating insects, but I’m sure this insect eradication is immensely valuable. I don’t think they’ve ever calculated it.” Sneaky looked up at them, all of their beady eyes raptly attentive. “Night creatures and day creatures live different lives on different schedules. Will you discuss my campaign with raccoons, all the owls, possum, Whip-poor-wills? Talk to all the night animals? I need everyone’s support.”

“We will,” the first bat promised.

“Kitty cats, come on.” The C.O. was backing down the ladder. She couldn’t care less that their conversation wasn’t yet ended, but they dutifully followed.

The two cats walked to the opening. Pewter looked down as the human reached the floor and put down the flashlight. “I am not backing down a ladder.”

Seeing two cats looking down at her, the C.O. got the drift. She climbed back up, lifted Pewter onto her shoulder, climbed down. Sneaky had turned around to back down the ladder just as the house’s power shut off with a crack.

“Damn, damn, double damn,” the human cursed.

The tiger cat reached the ground. The human picked up the flashlight, climbed back up. Then, putting the flashlight in the pocket of her frayed robe, she slid the attic cover closed with difficulty.

“Good night, bats,” she called, as she lowered the wooden cover.

“ ’Night,” they called back.