A Tale Of Tails

Stove is working overtime these days.  Even so, the house stays,if not cold, chilly.  Two sweaters and a hoodie, as well as the "bean bag" I heat in the microwave, and there are still times I can't feel my fingers.  Fall ducked out in a hurry and winter came rushing in.  This has been a whackadoodle year, for sure.

Michael has thick, plushy fur, and he still wraps his tail around to keep warm.  When he gets in one of his beds in the living room, I tuck him in with one of his blankets.  (This is a dog who moved in with creature comforts.)  Michael is not a tail wagger.  I feel grand when he gives me a swish now and then.  When we goes for walks, he raises that big brush high, but it stays low when he's in the house unless the doorbell rings.

Google answered a question I'd always wondered about...why do cats flick their tails when they're hunting.  One would think they'd stay statue still.  It seems it has a hypnotizing effect on their prey, and fools them into thinking the cat is on the move.  Ralph and Celeste do it even in the house when they see a bird or squirrel on the deck.

It's pretty obvious why lizards "throw" their tail when threatened.  The discarded tail keeps moving and gives the lizard a chance to get away.  I think it's a one-time shot because, although they can grow a new tail over time, it's never quite the same.

Mike worked all day yesterday and I'm sure, in the vernacular, he froze his tail off.  I wonder if he remembers it was sunny and warm when he contracted for this job.

I'm running late this morning and I'd best move my tail.