I had a revelation tonight. Five years ago day after Thanksgiving 2006, my verybest favorite pet of life, Quincy my cat, had to be put down. He was wired to hate outdoors. I LOVED that cat. About killed me to let him go. I'd lost his female friend, Molly, a year before. But boy cats are more mama's boys. That December after Quincy, I took on two kittens because I needed kittehs! They were not litter mates, Caleb and Kipplee, but I love them. That first winter I kept them in. The next summer, they wanted out, and I couldn't keep them in. I lost. Winter came. Both stayed out. I live in Georgia, so it's not THAT cold, but November through March nights can be cold. Cats stayed out. The next year, Caleb, lighter furred tabby, came in on cold nights. Next winter, ditto, but not Kipplee. Die hard calico. Then I got the next spring Spenser, a four week old abandoned kitten. Spenser LOVED Kipplee. Kipplee only wanted OUT. Okay. Fast forward to tonight. Kipps has ALWAYS been outside. Tonight, though, I was doing laundry out in the garage, and Kipps was huddled in some old clothes...COLD! I couldn't handle that. I thought she was happy outside, but she was not. I MADE her come in, carried her. She growls at Spenser, but Spenser is no threat. Caleb is asleep on my bed. After an evening of agitation, my Kipps is asleep beside me. Bless her heart. I will NOT let her out at night now that I know she was cold! How many nights did I miss?