Back in '89, after I got home that day (2 hours fighting idiots who couldn't realize they had to slow down while driving in snow), I let my Maine Coon Arizona out onto the tiny patio. "Come on, buddy, this is like your ancestral homeland." He wandered around, turning his head up to the flakes and letting them land on his nose. His paws apparently weren't cold, thanks to the tufts of fur underneath that his breed of cat has. He was having a grand time.

I got cold before he did and brought us both back inside.
.

__________________
* *
-- Paul W. (The Benzadmiral)
('03 Buick Park Avenue, charcoal/cream)
Formerly:
'97 C230, smoke silver/parchment; '86 420SEL, anthracite/light grey; '84 280CE (W123), dark blue/palomino