Dear Diary,
It is cold outside.
Now, let me be very clear: I am not cold.
Reggie is cold. Arya is cold. Dad claims he is not cold, but I can already tell he’s going to use the temperature as an excuse for No Walks Today, which is honestly the greatest injustice of this morning.
Even Ace didn’t try to make a break for it when the door opened. The cold air slapped him right in the face and he immediately chose life and indoors. When a cat voluntarily stays inside, you know the weather has committed a crime.
It’s not just cold, either. It’s cold, windy, and wet.
The trifecta.
The unholy combination that guarantees zero walks, zero adventures, and 100% couch time. And look—I don’t like it when it’s cold, windy, and wet. Not even me. I tolerate cold. I endure wind. I flat-out refuse wet. I have standards.
This morning we went out to take care of business, and I will admit—quietly—that it was a bit brisk. Just a bit. Enough that when we were done, I stood at the door very politely, very patiently… and Dad did not immediately let us back in.
So I barked.
Not a dramatic bark.
Not a “stranger danger” bark.
More of a “sir, I believe you have forgotten your responsibilities” bark.
Honestly, I worry about him. In his age, he seems to forget things more frequently. Like dogs outside. In the cold. After we have already done the thing he asked us to do. Very concerning behavior.
Thankfully, we are now safely inside, strategically arranged on the couch for maximum warmth retention. Reggie is using everyone as a blanket. Arya has achieved peak snuggle efficiency. I am supervising. Ace is pretending he never considered going outside at all.
No walks today, Diary.
But I suppose I will survive.
Barely.
— Willow 🐾