The cat gauge

We replaced the heating and cooling gizmos in our house a few years ago, and in the process we got a fancy thermostat that tells us the temperature inside the house and outside the house as well.

I like the new furnace and air conditioner. They keep our house warm when it's cold outside and cool when it's hot outside. But what I like the most is that inside-outside thermometer. With the push of a button I can tell if I need a short-sleeve shirt, a light jacket or a parka when I go out.

Or, I could consult Miss Kitty.

Our calico cat has, I swear, a temperature detecting system that goes far beyond anything the electronic wizards can devise.

Since Miss Kitty has been coming in the house for a few hours each evening, she has willingly gone to the back door to be let out. With the arrival of this week's cold snap, there's no more volunteering.

We can also tell how cold it is outside by gauging how tight a ball Miss Kitty curls herself into as she sleeps on the wicker chair in the family room (the only chair she is allowed to be in) or my lap. Sometimes she is so wound up you can't tell where she begins or ends.

Another test of Miss Kitty's temperature-detection system is the heated sheepskin in the garage, where Miss Kitty is supposed to sleep. However, the sheepskin is associated with the pet carrier we use every year to haul her highness to the vet. Miss Kitty does not go willingly, and she refuses to use the sheepskin when it first turns cold for fear this will be taken as a sign that she wants to visit the vet.

Eventually, it will be cold enough that the snuggle factor of the sheepskin will outweigh Miss Kitty's concerns about the vet.

The vet, by the way, is extraordinarily nice to Miss Kitty. Her dread of the annual visit isn't the person in the white coat so much as it is all those other animals, not to mention the odors that definitely do not smell like the Sullivan place.

To say that Miss Kitty is anti-social with other animals, including cats, is akin to saying Henry VIII had marital problems.

On one visit to the vet, a young girl came in with two kittens in her arms. They were curious and playful. When the girl let them down on the floor, they scurried over to Miss Kitty's pet carrier to check her out. She immediately when into survival-of-the-fittest hiss mode and tried to take a few swipes at the kittens through the air holes in the carrier. The kittens thought that was a lot of fun.

Miss Kitty has no use for small children, either. She tolerates older children and adults, but just barely.

When we first got Miss Kitty a few years ago, she had been a streetwalker, probably in every sense that word implies. Goodness knows how, with that kind of background, she turned out to have such a sweet disposition around us.

She has, however, had to overcome her fears of countless monsters. We still kid Miss Kitty about the Leaf Monster. When she first came to our patio, even the sound of a falling leaf would terrify her and activate her I'll-kill-the-next-thing-that-moves mode, which, unfortunately, was usually my hand.

Miss Kitty also frets about the Garbage Bag Monster who takes over the kitchen every night after the day's trash has been taken to the big garbage bins in the garage. The thwacking sound of a garbage bag being opened would send her into hiding, but now she sees me reaching for the bag and leaves the room.

On the other hand, Miss Kitty loves water. Not just to drink, but to play in. And lie in on hot summer days. And chase if a hose is left on long enough. She also has this habit of dipping her paw into any water she can find and licking it off. Over and over.

Other than that, Miss Kitty is a perfect cat. And those of you with cats know that can be funny and irksome at the same time.

By the way, Miss Kitty's weather prediction for the weekend is curled up during the day and in a tight ball at night. Just so you can plan ahead.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.