Winter Lettuce

Kitties don't have calendars. We mark the days in treats, rubs, and sleeps. If one gets a couple of sleeps, a treat or three, and a good belly rub, then I guess you would call that a really good day. That's a hint, humanoids.

My human is pretty good about the rubs. I hang up getting a belly pat if I'm in the street. Miss Erin has taken to tricking me into the yard before the ear scratching begins. I get Ma, I'll be careful of the cars.

Sleeps are good these days. Miss Cindy brought me this cool kitty condo after my George moved on last summer. After Miss Erin added the heated kitty bed it swiftly became my man-cave. When it's cool out, there is no way I'm giving it up easily. And it's been really cold lately. We even got some of the white stuff the big uns call snow.

That brings me to treats. Um, I can't lie, folks. There are treats here but I'm sure they are quite healthy. I dream about white, powdered doughnuts and french fries--not gonna' happen. I lust after a tasty leftover. I swoon over the smell of bacon.

If I could peek in the kitchen I'm sure I would find Miss Erin filling my "treats" with organic stuff from the garden. She does it because she loves me; I just wish I could have a bite.

So my calendar is full before I even add the extras. Today, I helped Rick tend the garden that sends the organic veggies to the kitchen. The garden has lasted many sleeps this year. I'm told that is a very good thing. I don't know know much about lettuce. It's a pretty shade of green and I'm told it's not supposed to survive the snow. I'm glad it did--survive the snow, that is. It makes Miss Erin happy and that makes me happy.

So if the sun continues to rise and I can drag my groggy self from the man-cave, I'll be back to catch you up on life in the village.