cold cat

Marley was crouched under my car last night when I was leaving my house to walk to dinner. I picked her up and realized she was shivering. It was 20°F. Her owners (my neighbors) weren't home. You'd think with a multi-million dollar home they'd be able to afford a damn cat door. I set up a little basket with a hot water bottle and some towels in my mudroom and left the door to my back yard cracked so she could come and go if she wanted. If I weren't allergic (and if I liked cats) I'd totally steal her.

Sunday dinner

A benefit to living alone is the opportunity to eat whatever I feel like for dinner. A nice option, from time to time, is popcorn and beer. I realize that last night's dinner was the summertime equivalent to this, with corn on the cob and a couple gin and tonics. Maybe I knew that I'd wake up to brazen fall weather and a cold wet rain- like the squirrels' instincts that tell them to bury food in my potted plants outside, my instincts told me that summer is ending and I should make the most of the taste of summer before the first snow...