Entire World Frozen Over; Supreme Ice Sculpture Surrounds Supper Dish

This roving reporter has braved the elements, abandoning creature comforts and risking life and forelimb, to bring you the latest headlines in this, the worst winter storm seen during my lifetime (which, in human terms, is around four or five years).  It is, then, the worst in recorded memory.

This seasoned reporter, who has seen her share of shock and awe, was chilled to discover that the ENTIRE WORLD had overnight been sealed in layers of ice.  This natural catastrophe has closed my library for today and tomorrow (maybe longer!).  You must see the pictorial proof to believe the immensity of this paralyzing state of meteorological affairs.  Be forewarned:  the following photographs may shock younger or more sensitive readers.  You may wish to jump to one of my more lighthearted blogs.

Here are some of the horrifying scenes of this natural disaster (all photos by the Lady With the Red Hair and Scowl-Face, who has crawled from his deathbed to answer duty's call):

Icy stalactites dangling from a wooden railing.

Winged dinner frozen in icy flight.

Gigantic tree branches laced with icy overcoat.

Having the exterior landscape converted into an ice rink may seem like grand fun to young upstarts, but we who are longer in the tooth and wiser in the brain will tell you that walking on ice is, at best, on par with being dumped into the dunk tank at a cheap carnival sideshow exhibit.  There is a myth that felines dislike water, but it isn't so; anyone who has watched a cat swim can tell we are capable navigators.  What felines dislike is discomfort, and walking about in this ice blizzard, make no mistake, is as uncomfortable as it gets.

Even during environmental crises, however, there are opportunists ever-ready (not the battery) to seize and exploit our precious resources for their own nefarious purposes.  I speak, of course, of the shaggy-tailed, beady-eyed, tree-crawling scurrydogs.  Unlike slobberdogs, which are generally friendly and obedient to their superiors (such as moi), scurrydogs race about, grab what humans call "pet" food, and, as their name implies, scurry to dizzying heights amongst the treetops.

This reporter was appalled to discover that my reserved supper venue was being threatened by an invasion of rampant scurrydogs:

Marauding scurrydogs disrupt the tranquility of life near my din-dins.

Fortunately, in my line of work, I meet a variety of personages and animalages (not a word, but, hey, why not?  The noun forms parallel).  Calling upon my friends, Feline Enforcers XIV (watch for their new TV show on UHF channels everywhere), the scurrydog onslaught was stopped in its tracks, and the world--but, more importantly, my din-dins--was again made safe for good, kindhearted folks such as my loyal readers.

Feline Enforcers XIV stave off advances by encroaching packs of scurrydogs.  (From left to right:  Biscuit, Gracie ["Baby"], and Michaela ["Micky"].  Barely visible at top right, on table:  Junior [of Baskets From Junior's Farm fame].)

Huge rounds of applause, please, for these defenders of truth, justice, and the American feline way.  The results speak for themselves:

Another grateful supper saved from scurrydog intervention.

How much longer will these intolerable conditions endure?  Too long.  I'm ready for spring.  Turn up the neighborhood thermostat, somebody.

Tough to Type With Frozen Forepaws, But I'm a Trooper,

Cauli Le Chat

MPL Roving Reporter

Arctic Explorer News Beat