Another Mouth

Miss C., whose name is evolving into Missy, was in the barn again the other morning, huddled in the empty stall.  She's a little waif, either very young or small for her age.  She's done such a good job of clearing rodents from the barn, and sometimes during the day I see her sitting in the fields hunting ground squirrels.  Those pickings are pretty slim this time of year as those pesky critters are underground in their burrows.  I don't need another mouth to feed and I don't want another cat in the house, but a barn cat is worth having so yesterday morning I put down a small bowl of feed for Missy (see?).  She wasn't in the barn at the time, but every morsel was gone when I put the girls to bed last night.

The temperature has been steadily dropping the last few days.  Stove was having one of his cranky fits, swallowing chunks of wood whole and not giving much in return.  It took all day to get the house up past 50 degrees.  It was a good day to wrap up in the afghan, pile on a couple of cats, and watch the NFL playoffs.  I wasn't vested in the Jaguars-Patriots game, but put a nickel bet on the Pats.  Dave owes me big time.  The Vikings' performance was a huge disappointment.  They were soundly trounced by the Philadelphia Eagles.  It was a rout, and the Vikings won't be playing in the Super Bowl.  Drat.

The promised storm blew in overnight, the operative word here being "blew."  The wind is howling out there in the dark this morning.  Stove and I are going to have to have a talk about his performance today.