Cats apparently operate on a completely different belief system than the one people and most other animals employ. I understand that this is not exactly breaking news, but the recent change in weather has ensured that my cats have completely lost all grip on reality.
In cold weather they react in the same way I do: spend as much time as possible wrapped up in blankets and sleeping. This is quite convenient because they don't wake me up in the morning. They don't want to get out of bed any more than I do, and usually give me the stink-eye when I get out of bed at a quarter to six. Also having warm fuzzy creatures in bed is rather pleasant when the weather is below freezing. The only real drawback is that the lint trap on the dryer clogs up with cat hair every time I wash sheets.
Warm weather gives everybody spring fever, but I think it makes cats certifiably insane. Richmond had a Teaser Spring last week. That's what I call those couple of days you always see in February and early March, when it warms up and everyone zooms around in shorts for a few blissful days. This is always followed by Revenge Winter, which is winter's last attempt to make your life hell before spring really takes over. I was excited by the dawn of non-awful weather so naturally I emerged from the wool-blanket cocoon and sat out on the porch for a good bit of the weekend. Having decided that the cats were probably bright enough not to jump off the second floor porch, I let them have Porch Adventure Time.
Now every time I get near the door to the porch they completely lose their minds. Since they've been out there in recent memory they have decided that it is always going to be time to go out on the porch. I don't know why they're so obsessed. I like sitting out there too but the way they carry on you'd think those forty-odd square feet of outdoors were full of mice and lame birds and possibly also a chewy-treat bush. So I let them outside so they can see that it is now freezing cold again, and they act like nothing's wrong for a few minutes before giving up and wanting to come back in. When, as you can imagine, they glare at me as if I'm the one who made it cold. Please note, cats: I am a man of many skills, but controlling the weather is not one of them.
I don't really blame them; I'm searching for signs of spring everywhere. I wear shorts all year anyway, but annually I look forward to the day when people stop giving me weird looks about it. A couple of days ago I turned into one of Those People who sees crocuses blooming and immediately posts a picture on Facebook. Maybe I should succumb completely and combine all the Facebook stereotypes by posting a single picture that involves the cats eating new blooms (they're inveterate plant eaters) thus combining a "my cat" picture, a "spring is here OMG flowers!" picture, and a "this is what I'm eating" picture.