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So, anyone who is a regular reader knows that I have four indoor cats.

The oldest of these, Pippin, has just gone on a diet.  You see, Pippin is a Dog-Sized Cat, even without his now verging on bowling-ball-sized belly.  Even when he was young and spry and in good shape, the only collars I could get to fit him were dog collars, and I had to buy dog beds because he was too big for cat beds. His paws are enormous. His claws are so long and he is so strong that he has been known to maim me completely by accident, simply by walking across my foot.  This is a Big Cat. And in recent years, as playfulness gave way to laziness, he has become a Big Fat Cat.

I have another cat who requires a special diet as well – Sistermew, who has to have medicine mixed into her breakfast because of recurring UTIs.  At this point we are well accustomed to her having a separate breakfast, to the point that she runs into the bathroom when the alarm goes off and waits for me to shut her in.

But now having two cats who need to be fed separately can make for some complicated mornings.  It goes like this:

• Wake up. Give all my surrounding kitties a good snuggle and try to convince them to let me out of the bed. This doesn’t always work. Wiggle enough to dislodge the cat that is on top of me (usually Evilmew).
• Shut Sistermew in master bath, with her can of special food and medicine.  Turn on trickle of water in tub so that she’ll actually bloody drink something.
• Shut Pippin in other bathroom with his carefully measured low-fat morning munchies.
• Feed Outdoor Cats.
• Feed Brothermew and Evilmew in kitchen together. Since they get along fairly well, Evilmew doesn’t get bullied away from the food bowl. This is good, because Evilmew is far too skinny, and I often wonder if that is why she sold her fluff to the Basement Cat.
• Scoop Boxes.
• Eat Breakfast. Get Dressed.
• Go around house to let cats out of their respective breakfast prisons. If the other cats haven’t finished their meals, take them up, because Pippin Will Eat It All.

It’s been a week since Pippin’s been on his diet. So far, Pippin is grumpy, and the other cats are very confused as to why there’s not always food in the bowl in the kitchen, and as to why Pippin is treating them like they have severely offended him.

I have gathered up anything that could at all possibly be shredded and put it up out of his way. Paperbacks, cookbooks, magazines, cardboard boxes given to the cats as toys, etc., since Pippin’s favorite way to express anxiety and/or annoyance with me is to shred something and scatter the bits all over the house…

Unfortunately, I forgot the toilet paper.

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So yesterday the world froze.

We didn’t get any snow – two days of snow in one year would be really odd where I live – but we did get a lot of rain. And wherever the rain fell, it froze.

This resulted in giving everything a really odd look, as if it was covered in glass.  I live deep in the country, where there isn’t anything much other than trees, and those trees were almost entirely covered with ice, not in big chunks, but as if each individual needle on the pines were coated, and each tiny twig on the hardwoods that had long since lost their leaves.  Not only did it look like the forest was made of glass, it sounded like the forest was made of glass. It was unusually silent, except for the tinkling of the ice as it stretched and cracked.

Now and then, there would be a noise like a gunshot as a large branch or tree gave way under the weight of the ice. My first thought was “Who’s out there hunting on a Monday morning?”  Usually any gunshot sounds around my house really are gunshots, during deer season.

I got an unexpected day off from work, because we were told to stay off of the roads. (My Canadian and New Englander buddies were highly amused at this: “It didn’t even snow, and you got a snow day?”) I spent my day off baking bread, though it was questionable whether I would actually get to the baking part, because the power kept blinking.

Eventually that tree that had been leaning on the power line fell completely, cutting our electricity for most of the afternoon and night.  I read as long as I had enough light to read, and then I wrote until my laptop battery gave out, and then I went to bed at what was probably a ridiculously early time. I didn’t have any issues with staying warm. Thanks to the kitties, I actually got a little hot – we were all snuggled up under the blankets together, and you don’t get more effective hot water bottles than four extremely fuzzy and large felines.

I love trees. Cinnamon is by far my favorite spice, for sweet and savory dishes. (Try cinnamon in a beef stew sometime. Only the chef will know where that nice, fragrant smokiness comes from.) I enjoy putting up holiday decorations, even if no one will see them but me, the Boyfriend, and the cats.

I do have to admit that I put up the tree mostly for the cats. With one exception, my cats tend to view the Outside as Something Scary And To Be Avoided. (And the exception, the spoiled Big Man of the House, really would rather be curled up next to the heater when it gets cold, thanks.) But, the cats love the the month when the trees come inside. They don’t try to climb it, fortunately. They’re too dignified for that. Instead, they curl up in a mass Kitty Ball underneath all the sparkles and that remains the favorite sleeping spot for the remainder of the season. Who needs a tree skirt, when you’ve got four cats huddled around the trunk?

But the holidays for me are all about the food.

See, I never realized how much I love to cook until I moved out of my mom’s house. It’s become a hobby, and a bit of an obsession. I really love to bake – there’s nothing quite as satisfying as the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the house – or cakes, or cookies, or muffins, or scones. But I don’t get many visitors, other than my mom or the Boyfriend, so I don’t get to cook for other people very often. I take baked goods to work quite often (usually to a chorus of “Awww, but I’m on a diet! . . . . I’ll have just one then . . . “) but the holidays give me an opportunity to bake for a crowd, as it were.

As much fun as baking for myself is, it’s always more fun to bake for someone else, to share in the fruits your labor. Since I’ve rather successfully changed my diet for the healthier in the last few years. I do not allow myself to bake sweets just for me.

What is your favorite baked food of the holiday season? Your favorite cake, or cookie, or pastry that just says to you “This is family, and winter, and hearth, and home”?

For me, it’s  my mom’s gingerbread. Not cookies, but thick brownie-sized chunks of sweet and nutty gingerbread straight from the oven and topped with a melting dollop of lemon curd.

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Tomorrow is National Cat Day.  As a dedicated cat lover, I have been asked by my feline overlords to remind you that, while many cats have found loving and attentive human servants, there are many, many more orphaned and starving kittens who are sorely in need of a home.

If you can possibly find room in your home for a homeless cat, the folks over at the National Cat Day website have set up an adoption portal with links to the major adoption resources and sites, all of which are well-regarded.

If you already have a feline master or mistress (or a few), I would also remind you to ensure that you have them spayed or neutered, to prevent the growth of the already over-abundant population of homeless cats.  If you don’t already have a cat, and are in a position where adoption isn’t a feasible option, donations of food, old towels, and such are always welcome at shelters and cat fostering agencies.

If, however, you’re just not certain, well, there are so many things I could tell you about how living with my cats has added something to my life. They are such individual creatures, each one with a different personality.  Among my four are a vain, attention-seeking princess, a gentle giant, a roly-poly clown, and an ever-present helper. When I’m at rock-bottom and none of my human friends can cheer me up, they never fail to offer comfort or make me laugh in some way.

Some cats can be difficult, yes — one of mine can’t stand to be touched, and doesn’t like to cuddle — but sometimes the difficult cats can turn out to be the companions you miss the most.  My first cat, my constant companion for nearly 20 years, was notoriously mean to anyone who wasn’t me… but I still miss her, and stories of her antics still make family stories at gatherings.

Especially at this time of year – when cats, especially black cats, are most likely to fall victim to animal cruelty, and animal cruelty rates rise  – anything that you can do to help is welcome.

And so, I leave you with some pictures of my babies, who will be getting a fresh bag of catnip tomorrow in celebration of their special day.

Evil Mew In Training

Everyone wants control of the Box

Trillian loved Norbert The Dragon

Pippin Likes Sinks

Brother and Sister Mews

Pippin striking a provocative pose

Related articles:

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I’m a little late posting today because of a couple of reasons…first, my only coworker had jury duty so my downtime today was zilch, and I spent what little time there was over on My Tweeple removing twitter spammers from my follows.

Twitter‘s such an awesome thing – as long as you do a little pruning now and then.

I had the *strangest* dream over the weekend.  It just sort of stuck in my head as vivid as if it had actually happened.  It involved me, my mother, a motorcycle, and a fox.

My mother hates motorcycles. Thinks they’re dangerous death machines or something.  So you can probably imagine my surprise when, in my dream, she pulled up in front of my house in a custom pink, glittery chopper with a sidecar, declaring that we were going on a shopping trip to Augusta.