Short Stories WR Woodbury

I need time to decide.  Fumeuse is trying to hurry me out the door but I haven't finished weighing my options.  I need to go because I haven't been out all night, but when I poke my head out, the spray from the downpour settles on my fur.  My nose and toes are cold, and a chilly breeze shivers across my belly fur.  All my instincts tell me to day indoors, but that means I'll have to use the smelly box on the veranda.  If I keep my nose high enough while I do my business,  the smell might drift away from under me, but when the air is still and heavy, I have to get out of there as fast as I can without bothering to cover up.  It's not my fault I like milk.  Because it's wet outside there won't be any neighbours to get into territorial scraps with, but I can't do my business in peace with water dripping off my nose. What cat in his right mind would go on a day like this?  Sometimes being outdoors is perfect, like on those warm nights when my hai...