Worrying About Stray Cats

THIS JANUARY'S EXTREME FRIGIDIGY in which the entire nation has been immersed has created problems I can scarcely comprehend for people I will never meet. Bless them. My strategy is to hunker down, pull the shades, set the thermostat at sixty, and boil water. Humidity equals heat retention, so I am informed. My paramount concern is stray cats, or if you will, homeless cats, though neither term seems adequate. I'm not sure they're as lonely and miserable as we cat lovers like to think, or that they have any real need or desire for human companionship. We tend to enjoy whatever we are accustomed to having. And yet, I think of my three cats, who've lived exclusively in my house for five years. When they were wee kittens, the wanted to come inside with me, and they told me so. Or, they thought I was a big ugly cat who might have a meal for them. often, the facts of my life belie my theories about it. Dogs can freeze to death in zero temperatures. Can cats? I've never heard it confirmed, one way or another. I suppose my feelings are best expressed by Robinson Jeffers, in his poem "Hurt Hawks". I recommend it. Tempting as it is to want all stray cats to move in with a human family, we can at least dream about a country in which all stray cats are vaccinated, spayed, and neutered. Better yet, a country in which cats are regarded as highly as they were in ancient Egypt, where they were in fact not "worshipped" in our modern sense, but were, as an ancient historian said, given very close scrutiny by the people, and regarded as manifestations of the gods.