Cat Seasons

For weeks when the temperature hit the upper 90s, my cats hibernated. Especially Herbie.

Herbie-the-mellow generally sleeps most of most days. When it was so hot, he slept even more -- downstairs where it was cooler or in the upstairs bathroom sink (which stays cool). An inveterate cuddler who snuggles up whenever I rest, or even think about resting, he could not stand to stay snuggled more than about 90 seconds, after which (however reluctantly) he moved away.

Several days ago, the temperature dropped about 30 degrees into the 60s.
My cats were transformed.

Guinness, who managed to stay somewhat active even in the extreme heat, became hyperactive, zipping from portal to portal, up on furniture, across the floor, down on the desk, up on the windowsill,-- zooming around like some cartoon character.

Even Herbie moved. Swiftly!

They chased each other. They chased toys. They moved for the pure joy of moving, of, finally, not being too hot.

Me too.

Then it began to rain. And didn't stop. And it was cold and dreary and there were no pools of sunshine in which to luxuriate.

So they went back to bed.

Good idea.