Monday, December 04, 2006, 21:56

Alberta Clipper (and pictures of Snowflake)

I'm sorry, but this *not* December weather. It is "right in the teeth" of January weather.

After blowing out of the west all day yesterday, with a high of only 16 degrees, last night at around 8 p.m. the wind switched to the south, and by 9 p.m. it was blowing out of the east.

When I went outside with Pixie on Monday morning, one inch of snow had fallen -- and the wind was back to blowing out of the west at 20 to 30 mph. The high Monday afternoon was 15 degrees.

A below-zero windchill in the afternoon does not make for a very pleasant day. Even if the sun is shining.

That's the thing about winter weather, I guess, those little Alberta Clippers, as the weather forecasters call them, that blow in quickly, drop a little snow, and blow out again just as quickly.

We're supposed to get another Alberta Clipper this week. And then the forecast is saying that by this weekend, the temperature will warm up into the 30s.

That's the other thing about winter. When the temperature is 106 degrees outside in the shade, 30 degrees sounds downright cold. When afternoon high has been a below-zero windchill, 30 degrees is an event to be anticipated with great relief and to be enjoyed every moment that it sticks around.

Snowflake -- Here are some new pictures of Snowflake. Now that she is a little bigger, we now know that she is a black tabby. You can see the tabby stripes on her legs. Also, in the same way that brown tabbies have black or brown tips on their hair, Snowflake has silvery-white tips on her hair. I don't know if, for her, that's a baby thing or if she will keep it as she grows bigger.

She loves to play with her apple bag.

And this is Snowflake still playing with her apple bag.

And here she is climbing.

She loves shoes, too.

Snowflake also has found a new place to take a nap.

And another place to take a nap.

And yet another place for Snowflake to take a nap.

LeAnn R. Ralph

Monday, December 04, 2006, 04:36

A Kinder, Gentler Sophie?

"Hi Sophie," I said. "What are you doing up here?"

For the third time in as many days, Sophie had jumped up on my lap when I was sitting in front of the computer.

Sophie looked up at me. "Meow," she said in a tiny little voice. "Meow."

I petted her head and she closed her eyes and gave me "head bumps" on my hand. "Head bumps" are a cat's way of saying "hello" and "I love you."

It was at this point that I wondered if I should call the vet -- because surely, Sophie must be deathly ill.

In the first place, Sophie NEVER jumps on anyone's lap. She doesn't like anyone enough to jump on a lap.

In the second, Sophie NEVER "talks" to anyone. She is the quietest cat I have ever seen. She hardly ever meows. Hisses, yes, when she thinks you've come too close or are getting too familiar with her. Growls and snarls when she thinks you are "after" her for some reason. But she hardly ever meows.

And last, but not least, Sophie NEVER lets anyone pet her and then acts like she is enjoying herself. Sophie does not want to be touched. She doesn't even want you to *think* about petting her.

And yet, here was Sophie. Up on my lap. Letting herself be petted. Acting like she was enjoying it. And saying "meow" in a tiny little voice.

Ever since Sophie came here to live with us in the summer of 2005, we have hoped that she would come around and at least let us pet her once in a while.

But so far, that hasn't happened. Not until the other day when she jumped on my lap for the first time while I was sitting by the computer.

"Are you okay, Sophie?" I said. "This is so unlike you."

"Meow," Sophie said in a tiny little voice as I continued to pet her.

"Are you mellowing in your old age, Sophie?" I said.

Sophie is only a year and a half, but maybe she is finally growing out of that grumpy and cantankerous part of her personality.

"Are you turning into a kinder, gentler kitty, Sophie?" I said.

Sophie looked up at me, and then turned and began to sniff along the edge of the drawer in my desk.

"What are doing, Sophie?" I said.

Sophie continued sniffing along the top of the drawer.

"What's so fascinating about the drawer?" I said. "There can't be anything in there you want."

All I keep in the drawer is odds and ends -- business cards people have given me, a calculator, paperclips.

"What is it, Sophie?" I said as Sophie sniffed back and forth. "What's in the drawer. . ."

The DRAWER!

Of COURSE Sophie was interested in the drawer.

Sophie wanted her pink mouse-on-a-string.

The other day, she had seen me put the mouse in my desk drawer. Sophie never forgets a thing like that.

And here I thought I was seeing a kinder, gentler Sophie.

I ought to have *known* it had something to do with one of Sophie's rabbit fur mice.

LeAnn R. Ralph