“The waters
swelled, lifting the ark until it floated
off the ground…The
waters rose, swelling higher
above the
ground, and the ark drifted away
over the
waters.” --Genesis 7:17b-18
We are doing pretty well. House is dry so far and we still have power and potato chips. We are doing pretty well. So many people were hit so much worse. My mother-in-law, for instance, has lost her house. She’s staying with us now. And her two cats. That makes five here, plus the 20 or more turtles that came inside to avoid being drowned by the flood. But, all in all, we are doing pretty well. You hear so many people say that these past few days. Ask how they are doing and you hear: Pretty good. Could’a been worse. Had to evacuate the house, but everybody got out. Including the pets. Neighbors helped us. Or: Some guy with a boat –never seen him before-- just pulled up and offered to give us a hand. We’re doing well. Blessed. How about you?
My confession: I didn’t take all of this very seriously. My daughter and I were shaking our heads with knowing smirks at all the TV meteorologists and their continuous panic mongering. So, my prep for the storm was to buy bottles of water, a fresh can of coffee, some ice-cream, a few bags of chips, and some extra peanut butter. My plan was to be ready for a few hours without electricity when we might have to survive on pb&j and chips, and be forced to eat ice cream that was about to melt!! That was Friday on our way home from school.
Then, Saturday morning I started to get a little worried. What if we didn’t have enough chips? So, I got up early and rushed to HEB and was a little stunned to discover a huge line of people (back to the dairy section) waiting to check out and not a cart to be had. Apparently, a good number of other people were taking this thing much more seriously than I was: almost every cart in line had at least a 12 pack of beer and a stack of frozen pizzas. I forced my way through the line –a man on a mission-- and came to one of the most horrifying sights a man can ever see: an almost empty chip aisle. Standing there, looking over the remaining 4 or 5 bags of chips –an assortment of low-fat flavor-free puffs and crispy things that resembled an actual chip about as much as a bat resembles a cow. I made a choice. Got in line --back by the yogurt and cream cheese-- and suddenly realized I might need some dip and some beer to go with my gluten-free salted veggie puffs. FEMA! Where were you?
Thinking about it, I was a lot like one of those people who were busy eating, drinking, and marrying right up to the moment Noah went into the ark (Luke 17:27). And then came Sunday morning. I was planning to get up and drive to church (despite the rain) but there was a call shortly before 7. My wife answered. It was her mother, who never calls early. She was calling from the second floor of a neighbor’s house. The storm was real. And it was worse than we could have ever expected. She had 18 inches of water in her house –and it was still rising. My wife got me out of bed and told me what was happening. She needed me to get dressed and go rescue her mom and her 2 cats. As I was dressing we got another call, from a friend/neighbor who was checking on us. She offered her husband and his SUV to get us through the high water. I can’t tell you how glad I was to have his help. I wanted to be brave, but I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own; I needed help.
God bless the outstretched hand in an hour of need. I have to say that Xander (the friend’s husband) was exactly what I needed that Sunday morning. Like an angel sent from God he arrived with his big car and his big heart and his eagerness to do whatever he could to help. It wasn’t until we got to Memorial Bend that we realized how truly bad things were. There were traffic barrels on the Sam Houston feeder blocking our way into the neighborhood . Where I might have hesitated and turned around, my guardian angel simply went around them and kept going.
He was able to get his car about 1/3 of a mile from her house before the water got too deep. Luckily, someone from the neighborhood (another guardian angel) had come out and blocked the street with garbage cans to warn drivers about the high water. Without hesitation Xander got out of the car and we started into the water which just covered our shoes at first, then our ankles and then up to our calves. Ahead of us were a couple of early morning sight seers wading through knee deep water, as they crossed the street. They smiled and shook their heads: You guys okay? You need help? Thanks, we’re okay. Shaking their heads and laughing, Doing pretty well, considering.
We kept going, walking on the lawns close to the houses, and high in the driveways where the water was shallower. When we got to my mother-in-law’s house the water in her front yard was almost knee deep. We had come bearing a pet carrier, a couple of tote bags and a pair of rainboots. As she opened the door, I had the instinctual notion that she should be careful opening the door. She didn’t want to let the water in the house. But, in fact she was standing there in almost knee deep water on the inside of her house, slides from a photo box floating in the water around her. That was when it finally hit me. This wasn’t just a wild adventure. This was a nightmare in real life.
Inside the house, the carpet billowed up and down with each step. Furniture was overturned where the rising water had lifted it and tipped it over. Following her toward the cats I walked through the living room and out of the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of something strange. I was anxious about snakes, so I was watching for anything that might move. But it wasn't a snake. It was a cucumber. A long thin cucumber wrapped in cellophane. It bobbed in the water beside the TV set, near the beautiful floor to ceiling windows that used to look out upon her beautiful deck and all the trees and the hill sloping down to Rummel Creek, but now looked out upon nothing but water it seemed.
Without too much trouble we got the cats into the carrier and Xander volunteered to carry them to the car. He figured I would need to focus on helping my mother-in-law through the water. So, he took off, and she got the rain boots on (which almost immediately were filled with water) and we grabbed a couple of things (medicine, an extra pair of paints and a shirt), and followed. It was strange how calm she was. Standing in that flooded house, she glanced around to see if there was any final thing she needed to do. As if we were just leaving for a little trip and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t left the coffee maker on; something like that.
When we got back to the car, we found Xander desolate and clearly anxious. The rain was coming down harder now and he needed to get back to his family before his own street flooded, but he was desperately upset that one of the cats had broken the door off the carrier and gotten away. And he couldn’t do anything to catch it because he had to hold onto the other one. He couldn’t even find the broken door of the carrier which sank in the water. Now the broken carrier and the remaining cat were in the car (somewhere) and it was clear that we needed to just go.
Oddly, the cat who stayed in the carrier was George (the one who bites) and the one who escaped was Gracie –the sweeter one. It was just one more devastation on a dreadful and desperate morning. But, we all assured Xander that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t do anything to stop the cat from running away and he was still our hero. We owed him only thanks and blamed him for nothing. He was truly an angel for us –a hand outstretched in our hour of need.
“The waters rose and that ark lifted off the ground…”
Later that morning, the rain slowing down, one of my daughters (Lucia) asked me if we could go look for Gracie. I put back on my rain soaked shoes, and my wet jeans –we grabbed a Sterlite container to hold the cat and we headed back out. Thanks to Xander, I didn’t hesitate when I came to those barrels. I drove around and right back into the neighborhood. Stopping at the garbage cans again, there were more people out, just staring dumbfounded at what had been their quiet, well-manicured neighborhood. We asked them if they had seen a grayish cat. No one had. They asked how we were doing? We told them we were doing pretty well. No flood in our neighborhood –but we’d lost one of Grammy’s cats.
Someone asked if we had seen the sinkhole. We didn’t know what they meant. But as it turned out, the tollway feeder was closed because part of the wall down to the tollway below had broken off and the water was rushing down turning the tollway into a vast lake.
We were doing pretty well, but we were missing a cat and my wife’s childhood home. Her mother had lived there for over 50 years, her father had died there, and now her memories billowed and bobbed in the waters of the flood. We had no idea what might come next. Only prayers, and the need to find that cat.
As we waded back into the waters, I told Lucia to stay up on the lawns closer to the houses, the water wasn’t as deep there (most of the time). But she was still walking the sidewalk in water up to her shins when she called out: I found the door to the cat carrier! This must be the place were Gracie got away. We looked around. No sign of a cat. I walked up to the house and peered in the window. There was a child’s play tent set up and some toys near it floating in about 6 inches of water. I knocked on the door. Tried the doorbell. No one answered. There was no sign of anyone coming. No waves of water as someone walked toward the door… Just the darkness and stillness and the floating toys of an empty house. Turning around, I started calling: Gracie. Gracie. And I heard something. Lucia started calling. And there was the sound again. A frightened cry. There was a low line of hedges under a front plate glass window. We called out again. And I saw something stir –something wadded up in the shrubs like a crumpled flag. It stirred again and I called Lucia: It’s Gracie. We found her.
I have to say here: I called out to Lucia because –she is the pet whisperer. Critters, animals and small children all seem to love that girl. They don’t seem to have any natural fear of her. Me, they seem to instinctively know, I am a goofus who –given the opportunity-- will mishandle any situation (including a cat rescue). Lucia reached into the shrubs and scooped Gracie up and we headed back to the car.
As we headed back to the car, Lucia holding Gracie in her arms –no need for a Sterlite container, (though I still relish the idea of carrying a cat in an air-tight plastic box) we were telling everyone we saw:
We found our Grammy’s cat. We found the cat. See! We found her. She was hiding in some bushes. Look! People waved. They laughed. They shook their heads. It was pretty obvious, we were doing pretty well. Of course there was much more to this terrible day, then the next, and the next and even Wednesday. But there are a few things I think I will always remember. First is Xander and his willingness to help. I want to be more like him. Second is that feeling of finding Gracie. We were so despondent; especially for my mother-in-law. She seemed to be in shock. Everything was crashing down around her. She lost her house, maybe everything in it, but we found her cat. And last, I keep seeing that zucchini wrapped in cellophane floating in her living room. That image of that little piece of safety wrapped produce bobbing around near her TV haunts me. It says something to me about the precariousness of our condition. The precariousness of our lives. Despite all our precautions, safety wrapped lives, all our material wealth and efforts to secure ourselves from any dangers or disasters, we can suddenly find ourselves on a Sunday morning waking up amidst the rising waters, a cucumber floating in the living room, our toys floating above the billowing carpet beneath our feet as the waters rise and the ark begins to float off the ground.
