As the pre-Christmas cold blast moved in, we made sure tractors and the payloader were plugged in case we had to scoop snow. We snugged up the chicken coop, made sure the bird feeder was full and then came the clincher, what to do with the lone cat?

At Thanksgiving we still had two tomcats in the shop. The second week in December one disappeared. We suspect he hitched a ride to town in the pickup as after Advent services that Wednesday night, Hubby thought he saw a cat matching Snoopy’s coloring skittering around the church parking lot, but it was not eager to be caught.

So it was that without a fellow feline to snuggle with in the straw pile in the shop, we decided the best course of action was to bring Sir Yowl into the garage on the coldest days. Since I had placed a litter box in the back of the shop when the ground froze, both toms had availed themselves of their “indoor toilet.” This meant he knew how to use “the necessary” and a fresh batch of kitty litter was placed in the empty litter box in the garage.

Boxes were rearranged so he would have his choice of using the old dog bed or a towel lined basket. But I might have known, since cats prefer viewing everything going on in their domain, Sir Yowl chose the pile of old blankets along the west garage door so he could survey the entire garage from his lofty perch. Feed pans for kitty kibble and warm milk were brought from the shop and a water dish was secured.

While a bit reluctant to be caught, when Sir Yowl was deposited in the garage the first night of single digit temps, he soon figured out how much warmer his abode was and settled in for the night.

It didn’t take him long to figure out how to summon his humans, however. He didn’t get the name Sir Yowl by being the strong, silent type. The second morning as soon as he figured out we were up he made his way to the kitchen door and started yowling. I glanced at Hubby and went to answer the call. Sure enough said cat looked at me, looked at the empty feed dish and looked back. “Yes Sir. I will fetch your pellets,” I replied.

About an hour later he yowled again and not exactly sure what was needed this time I stepped into the garage only to have him walk over to the south door indicating he wanted out. Now mind you, this was the day the wind chills were -40 degrees Fahrenheit, and I sincerely doubted he truly wanted out. This time I was right, I opened the door, he stuck his nose out and promptly turned to go back to his feed dish.

All was well the rest of the day and next as with the wind howling Sir Yowl seemed to understand he was far better off inside. But after three days of confinement our gentleman guest was getting tired of being cooped up. He yowled for his breakfast and after about an hour yowled again to be let out.

This time he stepped out into the relative warmth of the teens and spent the day outside. But it was clear our furry feline liked his nighttime garage routine and about sunset appeared at the front door yowling to be let in. Mind you no one had taught him how to do this, but he had obviously figured out how to manipulate his humans. I opened the door, scooped him up and deposited him in the garage. He went straight to the feed pan, which was empty. He immediately turned around and came to the garage step and yowled. “Yes, Sir, supper coming up!”

The next morning after his breakfast he yowled to be let out and for two more days until the night-time temperatures returned to the teens, the scenario of a yowl at the front door to be let in for the night, yowl for breakfast and yowl to be let out repeated itself. I swear that cat is part dog the way he figured out this routine.

The first night he was returned to the shop Sir Yowl appeared a bit miffed, but he quickly readapted to his former routine and can be seen hunting the west shelterbelt line again after breakfast. We’ll be curious to see if another deep freeze will bring him to the front door begging to be let in again. After all, who really trained who?