My cats become prisoners in the harsh New England winter. We have a screened in porch which they absolutely love. On those three or four good days that we get during the year, they spend the whole day out there being entertained by chipmunks, squirrels, birds, bears, rhinoceroses and woolly mammoths. Winter hits and they no longer want to be out there. I let them out because I want it to be their decision. Invariable, after five minutes, they are huddled up against the door meowing "Let us in, let us in." This has already happened a number of times in the harsh cold of September and young October. But the need to be entertained remains. I have come home from work to find tiny kitty beer cans and roaches scattered about the house. Crumpled bags of Doritos, squeezed out limes and salt residue next to miniature Jose Cuervo bottles.
I am worried about their health and sanity.
Damn you winter.
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