It is cold here. After days of 70 degree weather at the beginning of the month, it finally turned cold. And at a certain point, the house just feels chilly. I could set my heat on 70, let it run all the time, but I refuse. So basically, this is what I do. I wrap up in a throw, put my little space heater in front of the couch, and if I'm lucky, Mabel joins me and lays on my feet. I love this kind of weather, until I have to take a shower. COLD. Which is why we faced a dilemma with Mabel.
You see, Mabel hates taking a bath. She becomes very cat-like when we put her in the tub, her little body rigid with animosity and claws scraping at whatever grabs her. But it was time. As she burrowed next to me on the couch this past week, I've found myself sniffing her and saying out loud, "Mabel, why do you smell like popcorn and old shoes?" It was time for a bath.
At bath-time, it's all hands on deck. I apply the soap, Matt holds onto her little squirming body like an orderly at a mental hospital. I wash the soap off of her, and Matt deals with her mouthy complaints. But this time, when it was all over, Mabel was shaking. It was so cold, down in the 20's (not in the house of course) and she was shivering. So what could we do but bundle her up like a certain tiny figure in the nativity scene? And for once in her life, she didn't fight or growl. She just laid there like a pig in a blanket (EXCUSE the terrible use of that simile).
On another note, I've found another curb-side treasure. OK, maybe not a treasure. It's not much now, but hey, it was free. I'm going to hopefully have time to do something to it during my swiftly approaching vacation.