Briggs also chooses to guard the deep, dark recesses under the bed whenever thunder rolls into our area. And she knows that that spot must be attended to quickly, at the first hint of thunder, as she races, like a streak of lightening herself, back to the bedroom and stays there, ever so vigilant until Mother Nature has issued the "all clear for cats" sign. I am not privy to what that sounds like, maybe one of the humans fixing a snack?