In the last month whenever Chuck sees that it’s sunny outside he wanders over to the back door, stares at it blankly, and waits for us to notice so that we will let him out. And then he’ll walk out onto the deck and stand there confused, like wait a minute, I thought it was going to be warm but instead my non-existent testicles have been sucked up into my groin because of the frigid temperature. Then he turns right around and stands at the back door until we let him in. This sunny spot in the kitchen isn’t anything like the sizzling hot wood of our deck in the summer, but it’ll do for now, I suppose.
