Yuki isn’t the only one who has trouble with the heat. I, for example, loathe it. Given the opportunity, in temperatures over 90, I too would sprawl on the bed and refuse to move. Alas, work forbids. It’s impossible to write coherent prose while lying flat on your back. Don’t ask how I know that.
And I’m not the only one around here with that problem. The official high Wednesday was 96 (the average high for 5/14 is 74). Rhubarb and Watanuki adopted the usual strategy: lie down, spread out, and think cool thoughts.
Mind you, even in dire extremity, ‘Nuki will remain watchful. Note the baleful yellow eyes, even as he pants like a, well, you know. Dignity–and a high regard for the integrity of my skin–prevents me from completing the comparison.
Our upstairs gets really hot when it’s hot out, maybe 10F hotter than downstairs. This is the time that, for some crazy reason, Anais most prefers to go up there. She hasn’t, as far as I know, gone up there in months, but yesterday, there she was. We can’t figure this out.
The only explanation I’ve been able to come up with is that cats are perverse creatures. The temperature differential in our house is even greater than yours. The top of the stairs where the boys were sprawled was in the upper 90s, while it was in the upper 70s down in the livingroom. So why didn’t they just go downstairs? Because they’re perverse.