Ah, Poor Avis

There was a powerful thunderstorm tonight, and Avis got soaked to the skin and knocked to the ground inside the bucking, billowing tent. As soon as the lightning subsided, I ran out and found her, a sodden, helpless little lump in the grass, just waiting to be eaten by the nightly coon. So she's in the house, in her carrier, slowly drying out. Luther, last located roosting high in an ash, is probably just as wet. I pray he wasn't knocked to the ground, too. I can only hope I'll see him in the morning. Arrrrghh. Thanks for all your kind words, everyone. They are appreciated. I've been thinking a lot about why I do this, and I felt the need to clarify exactly what I'm trying to accomplish.