Staying warm

Like you, I've been thinking about warm winter coats these past few days.

I have a full-length coat with a warm liner, but it's so bulky and uncomfortable. I mentioned to my wife that I used to have a spiffy dark gray overcoat, but now it's missing from the coat closet near the front door. After a brief discussion of the missing coat, we decided this is another of life's mysteries that will never be solved.

So I wear a jacket. My wife says it's not a proper coat for wintry weather with temperatures in single digits.

She's correct, of course, as she always is. But my plan is to stay out of the cold as much as possible. I make quick dashes down the driveway to get the paper before dawn. I scurry to the mailbox across the street to see who has added us to another junk-mail list. I take three long strides from the family-room door to the garage door to get to the car.

My wife is worried about my lack of preparation in the event my efforts to stay out of the cold fail.

What if I fall and can't get up?

What if the car breaks down and I have to walk somewhere for help?

What if I go outside to feed the birds and, because of the extreme cold, lose my bearings and wander aimlessly around the neighborhood until I turn into a Popsicle?

All of these dire outcomes are possible, of course. But I try to be careful. Really, I do.

Miss Kitty doesn't have an overcoat or a jacket. She doesn't need one. Because she divides her time sleeping in the unheated garage on a sheepskin pad toasted by a pet-bed warmer, making forays to the patch of backyard ivy where mice make their way toward the flower beds beneath the bird feeders, and sleeping on my lap in the family room, she has a luxuriant coat of mottled winter fur that turns her into a feline version of a calico harbor seal.

You can tell it's really, really cold by how long it takes Miss Kitty to travel from the pet opening in the garage door to the family room when called by my soft-hearted, allergic-to-cat-dander wife who plies the beast with whole milk (which we are not allowed to taste, sticking to the healthier skim variety) and morsels of cat treats whose colorful packages nearly fill a kitchen drawer. (Miss Kitty, my wife, insists, is of the fairer sex and, therefore, prefers variety. Spoiled? No. Indulged? You bet!)

In warmer months, Miss Kitty makes a game of waiting to cross from garage to family room until she detects that note of annoyance in my wife's calls to her. When my wife starts to close the door of opportunity, Miss Kitty bursts through the pet opening and saunters the few feet across the patio.

Since the latest Arctic invasion, Miss Kitty has taken a more prudent tack. As soon as she hears the family-room door open, she bolts toward the escaping warmth and leaps over the threshold.

Take it from me, bolting and leaping are not easy for a 16-pound cat with thick winter fur.

As for my coat situation, I'm going to try to hold out for more moderate temperatures without investing in a topcoat. I will try to allay my wife's fears by promising not to sweep the leaves off the roof until springtime.

jsullivan@semissourian.com<I>