Two weeks ago, if you told me we would have a big snow again this winter, I wouldn't have believed you. It just doesn't snow here much, and with our record snow last year (12 inches), I didn't think we would get one flake this winter. But I would have been wrong. Last Sunday it snowed. Big, wet, fluffy flakes that covered the ground quickly. Just as I was beginning to worry about the damage that heavy snow could cause, it let up and turned into the hard, dry little flakes we are used to. Then it stayed cold for days, and the last of our snow is finally gone today. The only remainders are deformed little ice chunks that used to be snowmen.
The snow and cold weather broke down the last of the cat's reserves, and he decided to be a well-behaved house cat. Except for a couple of excursions through the house to see what was going on, he stayed on a bed of towels in the kitchen. At first, he wanted out, then in, then out, then in, and then he settled down and decided in was best.
Doesn't his foot look better? He still limps, but I can't figure out why. It looks almost healed. Also, now that he is better, he doesn't want to be picked up anymore. Just as well, because I think I'm allergic to cats. Since I've been picking him up so much and carrying him around, and now that he's been in the house so much, I've noticed that my nose runs, my eyes itch, and I have a rash on my arms and stomach.
And now a confession. I've gotten quite the swelled head reading your comments about my caring for the cat. But the fact is, he's been around here for at least three years, and I spent at least a year of that trying to run him off before I decided to just live and let live. For some reason he chose us, not the other way around. I guess he finally wore down my resistance with his mean-spirited and obnoxious charm.
Now he's like the Flintstones cat. When we put him out at night, he tries to beat us back into the house.
Until next time, may you have blessings and higher resistance,
Marti
