Kitty on Fire

Mickey loves the heat from the woodstove.  She’s been in this chair all night.  Earlier, though, she was out on one of the (two, thank you very much) screened-in porches because it was warm enough today to have the doors open.  The woodstove hadn’t had a fire in it yet—I had it installed last summer—and they say you have to “burn off the smell,” so I though it would be a good time to do just that.  Throw open all the doors and windows and get a roaring fire going.  Just like Dad always said—I was trying to heat the outdoors.  He also said I read too much.  Mickey loves the screened-in porch, too.  It makes her feel like she’s going outdoors even though she’s really not.  Jeanine came over for dinner tonight.  I can’t really call it my first dinner party because Jeanine brought dinner with her.  We sat on the porch for a bit and caught up, then moved inside when it got too chilly.  That’s when Mickey came in, too.  Like I said, she’s been in that chair ever since.  She loves it there.  We all watched “Rachel Getting Married” while we ate.  I liked it pretty much, except the endless scenes of actual wedding stupidity.  It started to feel like I was at the wedding, and wanted to leave.  I understood why Debra Winger cut out early.  I still liked the movie, though.  Mickey didn’t.  She threw up halfway though.  (Didn’t eat it, at least.)  She wandered around the house, puking.  Great aim, that cat—only on the rugs.  Then she climbed back up on that chair, where she’s been ever since.  She loves it there.  It’s close to the woodstove.  Mickey loves the heat from the woodstove.