This aphorism was proven once again today by our enormous tomcat, Garfunkle. (I've written about him before)
Now, Indianapolis is in the middle of a winter storm emergency. We're not as bad off as Chicago, but we are in the National-Guard-taking-EMTs-on-runs-because-the-ambulance-got-stuck phase. Evidently Garfunkle didn't believe what the morning TV said, because he went to the front door and asked to be let out. When the door was opened, however, he recoiled in horror and ran the other direction. That other direction was to the back door to see if it was frozen there, too. When the back of the house was seen to be the final circle of Hell, too, he turned and walked away... to the basement door, which he started scratching at to be opened.
Garfunkle is convinced that one of the doors around here must be the door into summer.
Maybe that's why we get along so well.
1 comment:
Just like my Doberwoman: During the monsoon season, she'll ask to be let out the front door. Finds it raining, she wants to find out if it's raining in the backyard, too. Once that curiosity is resolved, she resolves to hold it a little longer. We have no basement.
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