Purr...Brrr!!

Yesterday's day-long snowfall here was not well-received by the inhabitants of our house. It's too early in the fall for the fluffy white stuff to be coming down, especially since it hasn't even been six months since our last spring snowfall! I am intellectually capable of knowing that this snow won't last and that we will have some more warm days before winter is here to stay. The cats, however, don't like what is going on at all.
Last winter Smokey and Russ became "inside" cats after it got cold out. I felt sorry for them, and they so appreciated the warmth and coziness of being in the house. We adjusted to being a 5-cat household--even though Snickers, Jazz, and Crunchy didn't much like having new siblings.
When spring finally came, the two "outsiders" were eager to get out and explore again after the long winter--and Crunchy was allowed to go out for the first time, too. For five months now, they have been indoor-outdoor cats. All three have spent whole nights and even weekends outside if we were gone. I would hear them at the door if they wanted to come in, and we were all happy with the arrangement.
Yesterday, however, brought a forgotten wrinkle in their collective cat consciousness. Smokey came inside covered with snow after being out all night--meowing pitifully, like "How could you leave me out there??!" Russ sat at the door wanting to go out as I assured her that it wasn't a good idea. She was insistent, though, so I opened the screen door and she stuck her nose out, sniffing the cold air--then retreated a little as a wet flake landed on it. Gathering her feline fortitude, she delicately put a paw onto the snow-covered porch--then looked back at me with a "what the heck is this?" expression on her face. She did go out, though, and awhile later Crunchy went through the same ritual.
They were in and out all day, like little kids wanting to play in the snow and then changing their minds. I could see out the window that much of their outside time was spent underneath the car!
Unlike their outside peers, Jazz enjoyed the day sitting on the heat vent, while Snickers burrowed in a fleece blanket on the bed. I think they had the better ideas.

Cat-Astrophe

Many of you have probably read the hilarious forward about trying to give a cat a pill. In the many years that we've had cats, I've so far been spared that challenge--but I recently had a flea and tick collar adventure. Three of our kitties are the indoor-outdoor variety, so I wanted to make sure that no little pests--besides the cats and Fred--ended up in bed with me now that flea and tick season is here. So I bought three collars, the instructions on the box seeming simple enough. "Place the collar around the cat's neck, adjust for proper fit, and buckle in place." Of course, they probably wrote this after practicing on inanimate cat mannequins.
I waited until Russ and Smokey were dozing and easily buckled the collars in place. No problem! Piece of cake! Crunchy, however, was suspicious as soon as I sat down next to her. The growling started when I looped the collar around her neck, and she ran before I could buckle it. I sat reading the paper until she finally came out from under the end table, then nonchalantly sat on the floor next to her. She looked wary, but soon started rubbing her head against me and purring. I grabbed her with my left hand, and as I reached for the collar she bit my forearm, snarled, and dashed behind the couch. Round two to the cat. I washed my arm off so none of the tetrachlorvinphos--the collar's active ingredient--would get in the bite and cause "excess salivation, muscle fasciculation, vomiting, and diarrhea." An hour or so later--trauma apparently forgotten (hers, not mine)--she again sidled up to me. No messing around this time! I scooped her up and went for the full frontal assault, sliding the already-buckled collar right over her head. "Rreeeoooww!" she objected, digging her back claws into my thigh and launching herself with all her weight. I opened the door, and she raced outside.
Success!! That will teach her to mess with me, I gloated as I wiped the blood from the three claw marks on my leg. When I let her back in the house a half hour later, the first thing I saw was that the collar was gone! What?! $5.37 for the stupid collar, two cat-inflicted injuries, and it's gone in a half hour? I marched outside and searched around the yard, finding it beneath my birdfeeders. The "safety release buckle" had come open, probably from her scratching at it with her foot. I brought it in the house and temporarily put it in a Ziploc bag. Round 4 to the cat. And I think my cheek just twitched.