I hope you read that to the tune of “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin
Nashville has been hit with a winter storm, and unlike all the previous ones predicted, we did get enough snow and ice for people to freak out and the city to shut down. Finally! All the crazies are justified with their bread and milk hoarding! For us on the south end, what was suppose to be a couple inches of snow turned out to be a little bit of snow and a lot of ice. Just enough to make it look like thick compacted snow until you step out on it and discover that it slips out from under you. It’s not suppose to get above freezing for another few days, and the low tomorrow night is NEGATIVE THIRTEEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT. I’m not an all-caps kind of girl, but that warrants some all-caps. I live south of the Mason-Dixon line, y’all, and I didn’t sign up for this. No way; no how.
So everything is frozen. I’m not going anywhere, and I will be stuck inside with three crazy dogs, a bored six year old, and a swamped CEO husband with only ONE bottle of wine for a week. Dammit. Those crazy may need bread, but I forgot to go to the liquor store. If the weathermen (and women) would stop crying wolf over every “Winterstorm” then I would know when to take them seriously. Maybe I should just stock extra bottles in the storm cellar. It can be my plan for “State of Emergencies“.
So back to the cat…
My outdoor kitty, Lazarus, will not come indoors because of the dogs. (This is always the case - she’s always welcome indoors.) She will not go in the shed with a kitty igloo, food, and a HEATER. She will not go in the kitty igloo on the front porch with food. She just looks at me with this expression that says, “I’m not a dog, woman; I do what I want. Now hold me.” Lazarus has, however, managed to get to her usual haunt - under the house - despite being extra insulated and closed up about two weeks ago by a crew of four. Proof that cats will do whatever the hell cats want to do no mater how many people say otherwise.
So now I get to stay awake at night and worry about her as the temperature drops, and not to mention her sister, Jones, whom I haven’t seen in a couple days. Jones is very resourceful gal, and I’m hoping and praying she’s okay. There’s only so many times you can wander the neighborhood yelling “Jones!” (We really should give our cats more cat like names.) Until then, I guess I’m going to move a kitty igloo into the storm cellar under the house. I’ll just put it where my emergency wine rack will be going. I may need to
hide visit down there to plan it all out; you know, undisturbed by all the upstairs creatures.
tipsy warm, y’all!