FRED MILLER
To put you in the proper frame of mind for this story, forget the current spell of warm, springlike weather and go back to mid-February, with four inches of snow on the ground and a thermometer that hadn’t moved above freezing in three weeks.
On one of the coldest of those mornings Honey asked me, “Have you seen Flop today? I haven’t seen him all morning. I’m a little worried.”
No, I had not seen Flop the Cat, and I could not remember whether he had come in the night before.
Of our three young ex-gentlemen cats, Flop during the cold weather had transitioned from the least likely to the most likely to ask to go outside. And it is less of an “ask” than a sudden bolt past one’s feet when one of us opened the front door to bring in firewood. The other two cats, Fizz and Louie, would think they wanted to go outside until the cold air hit their faces.