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Wednesday, September 10, 2014

T Minus...

12 days to the autumnal equinox. The official kick off to fall. The herald of arctic winds and icy sidewalks.

It gets down into the low 50s at night now.

Yesterday I put an extra blanket on the bed and shut the windows on the first floor before packin’ it in for the evening. How soon before I need to don big woolly socks so I don’t shock-freeze The Amazing Bob during the night with my heat seeking tootsies?

Sergeant Rocco
In the afternoon I’d cleared out more space on the counter in my studio where Rocco’s planted his flag. There and on the red shelves he favors, I laid down rags and old towels for a bit of cushioning.

Mind you, my green comfy studio chair is RIGHT THERE with a lovely, catnip infused blanket thrown over it but he seems to prefer his higher perch. The more alpine the better so's he can avoid surprise confrontations with our insecure and molto territorial Princess Coco...I guess.

S’OK, I’m just happy (thrilled to itty bitty pieces even) that he’s inside now. I recall one morning, early last winter after a giant snowfall, finding him buried in the cold white stuff inside his cave on the porch (this was before I built his shanty town). My heart was pierced, it was.

Never again!
Princess Coco
It occurred to me the other day that what our reluctant warrior feline has done is this — he’s retired. After 12 years of braving Jack Frost’s blizzard action, the monsoons of spring, skunks, raccoons, nasty-ass dogs, foxes and possums, Rocco’s decided to hang up his Call of the Wild spurs. He finally accepted the Old Soldier’s Home invitation where he can be fed, cossetted and otherwise spoiled, all while staying warm and dry no matter the weather.

My dream is that, when the frozen nights of January hit, when our down comforter just isn’t enough to keep TAB and I toasty through the night, we’ll have not one but TWO tuxedo cats snuggled in with us.

Yeah, it’s been a week and a half since our man’s come inside and he’s yet to ascend from his basement lair, except for midnight poops in Coco’s box, but I can dream!

The other night I texted Vati saying "I believe it's a three cat night but we've only got two."

His response?
"If cats are equal to 1.2 dogs then three cats equals three times 0.6 or 1.8 dogs = three cats. So a three cat night can be handled by less than two dogs using the formula 3D=5C or D=five thirds C or C= 0.6 times D."
Vati is a retired math professor. Is it obvious?

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