Not regular barking. Apocalypse barking. End-times barking. The kind of barking that makes you understand why noise complaints exist.
The cats aren't helping. They're yowling, voices layered in a dissonant harmony that could shatter glass.
And somewhere in this cacophony of chaos, Hendrix is singing. "PUMP IT! PUMP IT REAL GOOD!"
But none of that compares to the main event.
Half the roof is just... gone.
Poof.
There's a gaping hole where ceiling used to be, and through it I can see the night sky, stars twinkling like they're mocking us, and I can feel cold air pouring in, and standing in the middle of this disaster zone like it's a normal Tuesday are Petrov, Wall, Becker, and Groover.
Petrov's on a ladder that looks like it was constructed during the Civil War, holding a power tool, completely unbothered.
We all freeze in the doorway, taking in the scene.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" I finally scream over the barking.
Petrov looks down from his perch. "Nothing. Why?"
"NOTHING?" I gesture wildly at the sky. "THERE'S NO ROOF!"
"Is temporary."
"TEMPORARY?"
Washington pinches the bridge of his nose like he's praying for strength. "Petrov. Buddy. Explain."
Becker jumps in before Petrov can respond, pointing an accusatory finger. "Someone—" He glares directly at Petrov "—Said they could fix the roof in three hours."
"I can fix roof in three hours," Petrov insists.
"THEN WHERE'S THE ROOF?" Wall yells.
"Is process! You Americans, you have no patience!"
"We have noROOF!"
They start bickering in earnest now, Petrov defending his timeline, Becker calling him delusional, Groover trying to mediate and failing, and the dogs are still barking, and the cats are still screaming, and my head hurts.
"GUYS!" I shout. "Can someone please explain what's happening in a way that makes literally any sense?"
Wall holds up both hands, and everyone shuts up. Even some of the dogs quiet down, which is honestly impressive.
"Okay," Wall says, projecting his voice. "Here's what happened. Petrov said he could fix the roof in three hours. Turns out the roof was way worse than we thought. The whole structure was compromised. So what should've been a quick patch job turned into a complete section replacement."
"How long?" Washington asks, voice tight.
"A day. Maybe two."
"Two days?" Leila's eyes widen. "Can the animals stay here with no roof?"
"Absolutely not," Mama Paws says, appearing from a back room with Papa Paws trailing behind her. She looks frazzled, hair escaping her usually neat bun, but her voice is steady. "It's below freezing tonight. They'll get sick. Or worse."
"So what do we do?" I ask.
Wall gestures around. "Everyone who can needs to take animals home for the night. We've got about fifty dogs, twenty cats, and one very loud parrot."
