The Cat Thermometer

It was an unseasonably warm day here today; in fact, we broke the record high of 30°C this afternoon. ("Nearly 50 years ago!" chirped the geeky weather guy....the Mister took umbrage at this, since right before that he had said "hey, it was exactly a week after I was born!" He felt the reminder that he would be reaching a pivotal birthday next time was unnecessarily harsh.)
Coupled with a humidex that reached 39°C, it was some hot, particularly for the end of September.

After completing both of the tasks I had set myself to do today. (Where DO I find the time?), I spent the remainder of the day reading in the breezeway, accompanied by a droopy, lethargic cat. Every now and again I would turn a page, and he would look over at me with his eyes at half-mast, clearly saying "dude, do you have to do that?".


A while ago, the kids and I noticed that the cat provided a rather accurate thermometer: the longer the cat, the higher the temperature. Perhaps because today's temperature was higher than we've been getting for the past few weeks, he seemed to be particularly affected. At one point, I was getting a little alarmed that he had stretched himself out to such an extent that he might never regain his normal, cat shape....it might be like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube.


Here is Toby when the temperature is nice and moderate, around 24°C:

See? Curled, but comfortably so. Nice, relaxed kitty. (BTW, the harness he's wearing is not because we feel the need to accessorize our cat, although that's not a bad idea. It's because he usually has to wear a leash when he's outside so our Crazy Neighbour doesn't take him off to the Humane Society, like she's threatened to do.)

Here is Toby on another day when the temps are a bit cooler, maybe around 18°C or so:

A tiny bit more compact, but clearly happy enough.

Here he is today:

Note the lack of soft furnishings, and the elongated pose, to maximize the surface area in contact with the cement. My friend Barb refers to this state as "cat butter".

Here he is when things got really prickly:

This is where I began to have some concerns for his overall health. I mean, we're at about 8 feet of cat here; it looks like he's dislocated his spine or something.

Despite my misgivings, around suppertime, he hoisted himself to his feet and begged for tuna (he heard the can opening.) and seemed reasonably intact, for someone who spent the entire afternoon like he was stoned out of his head.

I'm thankful that this is about as hot as it ever gets around here; I really don't want to have to see the cat thermometer's limits tested any more than they already are. I don't want to see a cat that acually puddles on the pavement.

Luckily for Toby, the temperatures are to be more seasonal in the next few days, and we should be packing up the breezeway furniture in a few weeks. Then he can regain his more dignified cat-stature, and resume his favourite winter-time position, "The Meatloaf Pose".