When I crack my cat's eyes from the deep sleep that binds me to the couch, I can barely discern the out door world through that rain streaked window.
Is there grass growing out there? Are there puddles? Have the rodents drowned in the rain soaked earth?
And as I open my eyes slightly wider I can see some of my territory more clearly. The old wagon wheels, the broken Radio Flyer wagon, the trees, the creek, and the fields beyond our fence.
But it is too much, much too much for a cat to take in on a day like this. Oh, the wind . . . Oh, the pounding rain . . . Oh, the cold . . . Oh, the wetness. The warmth of a pillow cushion snuggling me into dreamland is all I need. I can help it no longer. I am a cat who needs to sleep.
Until the storm clouds clear, until the creek recedes, until the grass dries, and until I can unwind from my ball of sleep and see clearly through the window . . . I will be as one with the couch.
"Winter" in cat language means "sleeeeeep . . . "