Wrong Side of the Door

Every winter in Maine has the same feel. Shorter days, colder temperatures, and pre-cip usually in solid form. The Sun cruises daily just above my southern horizon. Barely makes it over the big spruces across the road. Yes, general predictablity exists. Yet every winter in Maine fills up with quirks and odd sequences that make each one unique. The Winter of 07-08 seems headed in the same direction.

Just when oil prices spike and it takes $400 to fill my oil tank, Ma Nature decides to make sure we burn it like it was free. And so far, she is insisting on seeing my snowblower in action twice as much as this time last year. Last year's total snow fall was officially recorded to be 68.5" in 14 different snow events. Last year we got off easy. So far right now we have had at least 30" in 3 major storms. We seem headed for our more normal 90+inches.

So I sit in the office snug and almost warm. Another storm is busy outside. The smarter cats have figured out that this is a day to hunker down in a basket, a box, or on any uncovered pillow available. They know intuitively this day is one to ignore.

However. In every community, home, group larger than two, there are members who are sure the grass is still green outside. With memories shorter than they are, they insist on being reminded that the wrong side of the door is out there and not in here. I am always amused by their complete suprise and astonishment when they discover that outside is the same as it was an hour ago.

Bob and Stub are my two independent and restless souls. They refuse to believe in Winter. They need constant reinforcement that yeah, it's still cold out there. Their biological winter clocks tied to some 2 hour cycle. Bob will wind his way in and out of my legs. When he has my attention he heads for the door and I am sure he is muttering, "Dude, let me remind you where the front door is".

He then parks in front of it. Looks at it. Looks at me. Then looks at it again. Casting that disgusted look only a cat can conjure up he scowls at me, "Dude, come on, let me out".

"Little Buddy, You just went out an hour ago. Give it up".

Some more pitiful cat whining and then Stub will scramble over wagging her nub of a tail, "Yeah, let us out Man. I can't remember whether I need to pee or not. Be safe guy. Let us out."

I let them out. 5 minutes later I look outside. There they are parked in the front walk barely 10 feet into it. Both looking back at the door knowing they are still on the wrong side of it.