You know, of course, that when Missy Kitty looks into the future, the last thing she's worried about is the weather.

After all, her humans -- that would be my wife and I -- are well-trained and provide for her every wish and need.

"Her humans" also has come to include, I'm sure, some of our neighbors. A few of those who reside in our neighborhood are obviously taken in from time to time by Missy Kitty's googly eyes. This accounts for a certain plumpness even though we are careful about what we feed her.

Not that we don't reciprocate. A couple of our neighbors' cats, in particular, have found the smorgasbord in our garage and help themselves whenever the fancy strikes. One nearby cat has no fear. The cute calico crosses the street at an imperial pace, totally unconcerned about motorized vehicles, including four-wheel-drive pickups that are 10,000 times bigger than she is.

Missy Kitty's winter forecast has more to do with her own creature comforts. For most of the summer months she shies away from laps, particularly mine, because of her hot flashes. She will sit in my wife's lap any time she's invited, mainly because she is so seldom invited. My wife is the one in the house who is allergic to -- or course -- cats.

But come the cold nights, Missy Kitty is willing to risk overheating to go to sleep in my lap. She has one nap rule: No moving. If she curls up in my lap when my legs are crossed, the legs must remain crossed for the duration. Sometimes that's a short while. Sometimes it's a few hours.

But rules are rules, so I'm the one with aching body parts while Missy Kitty snoozes. I've tried to adjust while she is out like a groundhog in January. Rarely do I complete my repositioning before she is awake and jumping down from my lap.

Rules.

Missy Kitty has all sorts of rules. For example, if it is raining and she comes in from outside, she expects to get a paper-towel rubdown. Since she expects it, guess what. She gets it. Did you think for a minute she might not?

While Missy Kitty is treated to small amounts of 2 percent milk (another of her rules) several times a day, her dish with certified cat food is kept in the garage. The place for stationary cars is also where Missy Kitty's heated hut is kept. Not that she spends much time in it until the weather outside turns truly wintry. It's obvious where she spends most of her time while in the garage. The cat-sized footprints go across the hoods of both cars, up the windshields and onto the roofs. If Missy Kitty were a spy, she would be outed in no time.

Another deeply entrenched rule, according to Missy Kitty, is that coming into the house is a not-to-be-ignored signal that it's time for more 2 percent milk. So there is this standoff, from time to time, when Missy Kitty and one of her humans stand staring at each other to see who will give up first. Will Missy Kitty back down? Will one of her humans give an exasperated sigh and go to the refrigerator, as expected?

Missy Kitty has a lot of ways of communicating with us. She rarely meows, but when she does it means she wants to go outside. Now. Not when we're ready. Now. Not the next time we're up. Now.

And if, for some reason, we don't immediately accommodate her, Missy Kitty's next move is to run down the stairs to the basement. This means: "You didn't pay attention when I meowed, so now you have to wonder what damage a small cat can do to a sofa, a bedspread, knickknacks and so forth. Go ahead. Let your imagination run wild."

Finally, if all else has failed, Missy Kitty comes to the family room door, stretches on her hind legs toward the knob and looks over her shoulders at us with a look that says: "My claws have many uses."

If you were to press Missy Kitty for a winter weather forecast, she would, without hesitating, say: "Who cares? I'm a cat. I get everything I want. All the time. No matter where I am. Did I say all the time? So talk about the weather all you want. I'm not interested. Humans were put on this earth for a purpose, and until God created cats no one knew why. Well, now you know. That's all you need to know. Stop fretting about the weather. It's annoying. Humans should use their highly developed brains to worry about Really Important Things. Like why cats who want milk don't get whole milk instead of 2 percent milk. Now we're talking about something important. Got that? If you want to do right by cats, get a milk cow. It's the least you can do. Meow. I want to go out."

And, of course, she does.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.