Some of us are blessed (cursed) with living in places that have earthquakes. Some, more often, others less so.
So, those Cat Siters so inclined are hereby invited to share personal experiences!
I have a lot, so I'll try to space things out a bit. I've been through a noticeable earthquake for just about every year I've lived out here, more or less.
I'm originally from Ohio, and when I got here in 1985 I had never experienced an earthquake. That changed on July 8, 1986 at about 2:30 in the morning when North Palm Springs was struck by a 6.0 earthquake, and I was in Sunnymead, which is now part of Moreno Valley, just east of Riverside, about 50 miles away from the epicenter.
My roommate and I shared an apartment on the second floor of a cheap apartment building on Heacock Street that shook VIOLENTLY. Everyone told me that the thing to do in an earthquake is to stand in the nearest doorway if possible; hopefully, not as much stuff would crash on top you. So I did.
My roommate had a waterbed, and it sloshed and splooshed. "Dave, we're having an earthquake!" he screamed. "Duly noted," I said back, while the building rocked, and you could hear the nails creaking in the framing, a woman downstairs screaming, and little kids screaming too.
My roommate and I also had a cat, which my roommate named Peanut, a nice gray and white short-haired muscle kitty, much like the infamous Conan I have today. His tail was fluffed in terror and took a while to slim back down again. He jumped eight feet when Mr. Peppermint the building super (he loved peppermint schnapps) pounded on the door and asked if we were okay.
No damage to the apartment complex, and the store my roommate and I managed (mis-managed?) was pretty much okay too.
I was officially a for-real California resident!
So, those Cat Siters so inclined are hereby invited to share personal experiences!
I have a lot, so I'll try to space things out a bit. I've been through a noticeable earthquake for just about every year I've lived out here, more or less.
I'm originally from Ohio, and when I got here in 1985 I had never experienced an earthquake. That changed on July 8, 1986 at about 2:30 in the morning when North Palm Springs was struck by a 6.0 earthquake, and I was in Sunnymead, which is now part of Moreno Valley, just east of Riverside, about 50 miles away from the epicenter.
My roommate and I shared an apartment on the second floor of a cheap apartment building on Heacock Street that shook VIOLENTLY. Everyone told me that the thing to do in an earthquake is to stand in the nearest doorway if possible; hopefully, not as much stuff would crash on top you. So I did.
My roommate had a waterbed, and it sloshed and splooshed. "Dave, we're having an earthquake!" he screamed. "Duly noted," I said back, while the building rocked, and you could hear the nails creaking in the framing, a woman downstairs screaming, and little kids screaming too.
My roommate and I also had a cat, which my roommate named Peanut, a nice gray and white short-haired muscle kitty, much like the infamous Conan I have today. His tail was fluffed in terror and took a while to slim back down again. He jumped eight feet when Mr. Peppermint the building super (he loved peppermint schnapps) pounded on the door and asked if we were okay.
No damage to the apartment complex, and the store my roommate and I managed (mis-managed?) was pretty much okay too.
I was officially a for-real California resident!
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