After dropping Grandma off at the lodge last night Scott and I picked up a little insulated cat house someone had made and set on his front lawn with a sign, "For Sale, $20.00." Can't go wrong for that price, we thought. The guy must use scrap material and even so, isn't charging much for his labour.
The cats here sleep in the barn in the winter but are often sitting on our step looking for food or attention during the day, so what the hell. There are at least half a dozen of them. "Our" cat, Ralph (when he lived with her, Grandma called him Blackie but he has a distinct meow that sounds like he's saying "Ralph") is never friendly to the other cats. He's openly hostile but, even clawless and neutered, I'm told he's the boss of the barn. Maybe he'd like to have his own little castle over here. Or maybe other cats will make use of it.
Before we came indoors, I shovelled the snow off the dog house and Scott placed the new building on top of it.