It has been only about 5 minutes, and already I can hear my stupid cat clawing at the glass storm door to be let inside.

(Pause to open door and say, “I told you you didn’t want to do that,” as the cat darts in and freezes, watching for the Lab puppy.)

During a pause in the morning work I tossed some seed into kitty TV land – a square of land bordered by the house and detached garage. Our Christmas tree leans against the rabbit hutch for windbreak, and makes a nice spot for birds to perch, as do the lines overhead. A sliding glass door looks out on the patch, and it has become the cat’s favorite spot, watching the squirrels and birds come through.

The food all was gone, so I tossed some mixed seed out the door. As I reached down for the cracked corn, the cat shimmied over the seed bin and onto the ledge and I warned him he didn’t want to be outside. He should know this by now, and some days he does. One day I was holding him and walked onto the front porch – not planning to toss him into the couple of feet of snow on the lawn, I swear – and suddenly there were claws in my shoulder blade and a streak of long gray and white fur peeling down the basement stairs.

Not today. I dug into the corn, vainly hoping the squirrels would prefer it to the sunflower seeds, and out the back door he dropped. I looked down at my silly animal, thinking he might hop back up. Nope. So I headed back to my desk, knowing he would make his way around the house shortly.

He saw the white stuff all over the ground. He doesn’t like it. Why did he think it would be different today? Or is it like how my sister and I just had to try lemonade and milk one more time, to be sure it was as revolting as we remembered? (It was.)

This post originally appeared on ourMidland.com, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.