In the first week of March, the temperature reached 12 and even 14 degrees (that’s 53.6 and 57.2 degrees F), and everyone thought spring had sprang early.
I washed heavy winter jackets, sweaters, scarves and gloves, all to be put away clean, until we needed them again.
While I washed and cleaned, the cats enjoyed a watery sun on the balcony. Yes, it was still a bit chilly, but in their fur coat they seemed comfortable. As the balcony door remained open they were able to come and go as they pleased.
That’s to say, Charlotte, Mickey and Gabriel came back in when it got too cold for them, but Holly had her own set of rules.
She sat by the door, and meowed when she wanted to come in. When I said “Come on then, the others managed, you will fit too,” she gave no sign of movement.
So I opened the door a little more, enough for a poodle to fit through. Holly remained seated.
I opened the door wider still, a German Sheppard would have had no problem squeezing through, but still no movement on Holly’s part. So I opened the door so wide, a horse could have galloped in and yes, now Miss Holly daintily stepped over the threshold. Honestly, that cat has illusions of grandeur.
Of course, now that they were used to going outside, they couldn’t understand (when the weather turned colder again) why they couldn’t go on the balcony any longer. Mickey, Charlotte and Gabriel took it in their stride, but Holly kicked up a fuss.
She sat by the sliding door, looked over her shoulder and meowed. When the door didn’t open to her wishes, she meowed louder and more insistent. When I said “It’s too cold Holly,” she stretched out her meow like a concerto in D major.
Eventually she gave up and slunk off somewhere, but it was clear that she was not happy.
As for me, I’m not exactly happy either. I’d grown used to walking outside without having to bundle up. While I still wear a scarf and gloves when venturing out, I refuse to wear my heavy winter coat again. It’s been cleaned, it’s been put away and it will stay there until December.