Winter Cats

Wanna know what this pic, at right, shows? It depicts a total, motherfucking lack of Ghost Cat prints. With the weather all winter fuckety-fucked his appearances have been sporadic. He was here for breakfast but not dinner last night. I do dearly wish he’d moved onto the porch (and into the lovely house I put out for him) but no dice – the boy’s more feral and ‘fraidy cattish than my fierce warrior boy ever was. Ghost Boy's got a bolt hole somewhere. It better be warm, dry and safe.  I worry!

And speaking of my former, wild, savage fella, this morning he let me sleep in a tiny bit – ’til 4:30. Lately he’s been after me to get my lazy ass outta the crib at 3:30. Yeah, 3:30 AM (!!!) and NO I haven’t gone along with his fiendish plans. After shouting no, give me 15 more minutes and burying myself under the covers he'll, usually, piss off to his blanket nest to wait for me to give up and get up...probably thinking Yeah, I knew 3:30 was too early but, ya know, had to give it a shot.

He practices that innocent look. I'm sure of it!

Not this morning though. I pulled the duvet up over my head and he came in after me. OK, just his fat paw, with one claw extended, poked in after me. Yup, he was in an all-business frame of mind.

Goddamned time cognizant cat.

From my porch peek, it doesn’t look like we got a ton of snow in last night's storm but, I’m tellin’ you, it’s icy out there AND there’s a high wind warning in effect until tonight. Ooof. Quite possibly, me and the cats are gonna spend the day inside (definitely INside) binge watching Next Generation, knitting, painting, reading more from the Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the American West and NOT going outside AT ALL.

I prefer winter (well, someone had to, I suppose) and Fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape--the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.
~ Andrew Wyeth

Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies-God damn it, you've got to be kind.
~ Kurt Vonnegut, God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater