We woke up this morning to a white world. It was only half an inch, not even worth shoveling. The streets and sidewalks melted by noon. It was enough to upset Rascal.
He went to the back door as usual and asked to go out so he could check out the perimeter of his property. Since neighborhood cats Koala and Mittens moved north to the village of Abrams, things have been quiet in Rascal's territory, but he still checks in case a growl or two is needed to chase off any interlopers. He put one paw out and it hit that nasty white stuff. He gave me a dirty look. Once again, I had failed to stave off winter. He was not amused. Humans are so disappointing.
It got worse.
I started bringing down Christmas paraphernalia. Soon there were boxes and cases of ornaments, lights and holiday bric-a-brac all over his favorite sleeping spots, especially the sunny place on the easy chair. By mid-afternoon, I had Gary's tree (the one he brought with him when he moved in) set up and was stringing the lights.
It was too much for Rascal. He swatted at me, turned, stuck his tail straight up and headed up the stairs to hide from the insanity. He knows that for the next month strange people will be showing up. He hates strangers. There will be parties. He hates parties. Gary and I will leave the house on some days to go places. Rascal hates being abandoned.
When he was younger, he would go out and kill something in the backyard and drag it in. We found dead starlings and baby bunnies stashed under the Christmas tree. Gary told me he was just trying to give me a present. I think he was getting even.
Now that he is an old cat of nineteen years, he can't catch anything. He shows his disapproval by hiding from it all and waiting for spring.
I am with him on that.
......
Wade Peterson, Colette Bezio, Susan Manzke and I will be having a booksigning at Sissy's in Seymour on December 15 from 3-5 pm.
He went to the back door as usual and asked to go out so he could check out the perimeter of his property. Since neighborhood cats Koala and Mittens moved north to the village of Abrams, things have been quiet in Rascal's territory, but he still checks in case a growl or two is needed to chase off any interlopers. He put one paw out and it hit that nasty white stuff. He gave me a dirty look. Once again, I had failed to stave off winter. He was not amused. Humans are so disappointing.
It got worse.
I started bringing down Christmas paraphernalia. Soon there were boxes and cases of ornaments, lights and holiday bric-a-brac all over his favorite sleeping spots, especially the sunny place on the easy chair. By mid-afternoon, I had Gary's tree (the one he brought with him when he moved in) set up and was stringing the lights.
It was too much for Rascal. He swatted at me, turned, stuck his tail straight up and headed up the stairs to hide from the insanity. He knows that for the next month strange people will be showing up. He hates strangers. There will be parties. He hates parties. Gary and I will leave the house on some days to go places. Rascal hates being abandoned.
When he was younger, he would go out and kill something in the backyard and drag it in. We found dead starlings and baby bunnies stashed under the Christmas tree. Gary told me he was just trying to give me a present. I think he was getting even.
Now that he is an old cat of nineteen years, he can't catch anything. He shows his disapproval by hiding from it all and waiting for spring.
I am with him on that.
......
Wade Peterson, Colette Bezio, Susan Manzke and I will be having a booksigning at Sissy's in Seymour on December 15 from 3-5 pm.
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