My life as an indoor cat

My wife Jane calls me "an indoor cat."

By that she means I don't get out much, that given the choice of inside or outside I prefer to stay inside. It's like she has this image of me: She opens the screen door asking, "Want to go out? Want to go out?" and I just sit there curled up on the couch refusing to budge.

I take offense to the characterization. First off, I don't like cats -- never did, never will. No offense to cat owners, but cats and I don't mix well, something about the tightening chest, wheezing and itchy eyes that they produce in me. Secondly, I get outside ... sometimes.

I play golf -- outside. I mow the lawn -- outside. I go to the beach and surf -- outside. My walking or running exercise is done outside (except on those days when it's done inside on a treadmill).

It's just that I have to have a reason to be outside. It's like the outside and I have to have an appointment to be together. During the winter I ski -- outside -- and we agree on a day and a location and we negotiate the duration of the appointment as the day goes along. If I'm outside mowing the lawn, or at the beach, or doing something else that involves being outdoors, then it is something that has been thought about in advance, scheduled as part of the to-do list.

And there are qualitative conditions to being outside. In that regard, I am definitely a fair-weather friend to the great outdoors. If I've scheduled something to do outside and it's raining heavily or there's a blizzard, then weather trumps outdoors.

I will not be outside just to be outside, I'll be outside if I have a reason to be outside. In that vein, I'm definitely not considered the rugged "outdoorsy" type.

For example, the one time that I worked outside as a laborer on a lettuce farm in Oswego, N.Y., the summer after my freshman year in high school, I swore to myself I would always have an indoor job. I didn't especially like being exposed to all that dirt for such a long period of time. I'm not going to climb a mountain simply "because it's there." A greater qualification is required. 

I observed to Jane the other day how much I liked having a porch on our house. She responded something to the effect of: "Why? It's not like you go outside and use it." I guess she's right. I don't go out onto the porch just for the sake of going out onto the porch. I'll make an appointment with the porch to cook sometimes because that's where the grill is.

Think of me as the rugged "indoorsy" type, the kind of guy who will pick up a guitar and play "because it's there." Think of me as the kind of guy who revels in the company of books more than he revels in the company of trees, the kind of guy who believes that roughing it means checking into a hotel without room service.

Just don't think of me as a cat.

Now excuse me while I find a nice sunny spot to curl up.

And I still like the fact that we have a porch.