As I said last week, our cat loves warmth.
This morning, she was unceremoniously tossed off the bed with the injunction, “the rain is gone, the sun is shining and now go outside like a normal cat!” (Normally, she prefers to remain curled up on the bed, in the snug little hollow that she’s made for herself during the night. So, normally, we make the bed around her.)
However, even though the rain had gone, and even though the sun was indeed shining, the temperatures were definitely still in the single digits outside. No frost, mind you, but as close to frost as you can get at sea level.
Tuffy wasn’t amused.
Luckily, there was a nice, solid beam of sunlight in the passage, reaching almost all the way down to the end. And so that’s where I found her: sitting in the middle of the sunbeam, gazing at me with a little disconsolate kind of expression on her face. It said, ” I’m cold. Can’t I go back to bed, please? Or how about you turn the heater on for me?”
During the hour that it took to make breakfast, get hubby off to work, return the DVD to the store, and come back home again, the sunbeam had gradually withdrawn into the kitchen. Every time I looked, Tuffy had shuffled forward a foot or two, turning first one side and then the other into the sun.
She was trying to absorb every last joule of heat into her furry little body.
Later in the morning, when the sun had withdrawn entirely from the house, but the world outside was still shivering with coldness and an icy wind fluffed up the feathers of the perching birds, I took pity on Tuffy-Cat and turned on the heater in the office.
I think she was well pleased.