Maria and I (and Zip) agree that he should not come indoors in the winter. He agrees as well. Barn cats know how to keep warm, but Maria laughs when I wonder if he is warm enough and if we could or should do anything to ensure that he is. I’m the one who suggested a heated barn house, which is plugged in for the hard winter days and nights.

So I’m the worrier, and she’s the tough guy—a role switch. Zip has taken me over. I’m a cat person now and a dog person. Zip has many warm places to sleep (including the expensive heated outdoor cat house), but during the afternoon, he always comes to one of his blanket-stuffed wooden boxes to sleep for hours.

When I saw his temperature was zero, I told Maria we might want to check on him. I admit to being a squish around Zip. We never worried about Minnie and Flo, our two previous outdoor barn cats. They never wanted to come into the house but loved dozing on the back porch.

Maria laughed at me again and suggested I look at Zip’s favored new daytime headquarters. I was startled to see him happily kneading several pieces of wool fleece padding I used for blankets and seats. The padding was from our sheep, and the wool was beautiful, but the fleece was quite pricy. “I knew you were worried about him, but you can relax now.” And I have.

He loves it out there.

Zip is in heaven with the fleece. He hasn’t come out of the box all day and takes turns kneading, dozing, and kneading. Maria reminded me that I am the one who has trouble in zero weather, not Zip. She says she can get me some fleece blankets if I want.

Also, he’s had access to a heated cat house for two winters. He stuck his head in and plugged it in when we got it, but he hasn’t gone in once. He sleeps mainly in a seedy, old, smelly dog bed beside the heated cat house. We think we know cats, but we don’t—at least I don’t.