Back in the good old days, a snow day meant no school. At my house, it also usually meant a ski day. We couldn't get through the snow to school, a mile away, but my mother never had a problem packing up four kids, skis, boots, poles and lunch, and heading to Bridgton, an hour and a half away, in our old station wagon.

That was back when six inches of snow was humdrum. Now it's like a minor catastrophe. Ominous music plays during the weather report, full of doom and gloom and warnings to stay inside.

For anyone who is able to work from home on a laptop, a snow day means spending a good part of the day on the couch in a bathrobe, laptop open on a card table, dog and cat curled up, safe and warm, and happy their mum is home with them. Nice.

Unfortunately, if you’re a bleeding heart animal lover like I am, it’s not as nice as it sounds. First there are the birds, who know a storm is looming, flocking to the feeder full of black oil sunflower seeds outside the bay window. There's a combination of mixed seeds, cracked corn (for the mourning doves and crows) and peanuts (for the squirrels and chipmunks) on the ground under the bird feeder.

The feeder is big, and full. No worries there. But that patch of stuff on the ground is going to be covered with snow soon. Should I place something over it and hope the birds are smart enough to go beneath it? I can't decide. I should just put the shades down, but I know I’d keep peeking out. It's a dilemma.

It's 9:30 a.m. The storm we've been hearing about for two days hasn't reached Edgecomb yet. The weather station is on, turned down low, but loud enough to hear the 30-minute updates. “A massive nor’ easter is moving in, folks,” the weather man is saying.

I wish I could just relax and say, “Let it snow!”

Unfortunately, there’s an even more nagging concern than the birds. A few nights ago, my kitty, Ruby-2-Shoes, was pawing at the kitchen window, making that loud “mr-ooow” sound cats make when they see something bothersome. It was around midnight, and frigid outside. There was a cat on my deck. She (I think she's a girl) was big and fluffy, with a funny face — an unusual cat face I recognized as a stray who had been coming around two winters ago. I was putting food out for her then, and made several attempts to lure her inside. One time, she let me get close enough to touch her, and then she was gone. I continued leaving food out for her, but it went uneaten. I feared the worst, and eventually forgot about her.

But now she's back. To anyone who says you shouldn't put food out for a cat who is hanging around at midnight in the freezing cold because it probably has a home and is just playing on your sympathies, I say I hope you're not a cat parent.

After it snowed a couple days ago, I followed cat tracks from my garage, where I had left the door up a foot and put food and a bed inside, to the abandoned shed behind my neighbor's house. The shed is old and caving in, with broken windows. The house has been abandoned, too.

The bed I rigged up in my garage is an old, clean, kitty litter box lined with a big down parka and a soft blanket, with a rug, another blanket and another down parka wrapped around it. I have placed a catnip mouse and some kitty treats inside. I have tamped down a path through the snow from the garage to the shed.

My neighbor on the other side, Marie, came over this morning with two more blankets, which I have added to the bed, and a bowl of chicken and chicken livers she had just cooked. She is a bleeding heart, too. I put the food on the deck a while ago, hoping to lure the cat inside when she came to eat it, but an hour later it was frozen, so I brought it in to thaw. Another dilemma.

I have changed out of my bathrobe and slippers into yoga pants, sweatshirt and boots. I have placed a yoga mat over the bird food on the ground, so I can lift it off to expose the food after the storm. I will be out tamping snow down on the path to the shed as the snow piles up.

I just heard it's National Pizza Day. Luckily, I have some Portland Pie dough in the freezer, a jar of good red sauce, some fresh mozzarella, a sweet orange pepper and a can of anchovies. If it wasn't for the stray cat and the birds, I'd be happy.

Oh boy. Here comes the snow.

And just f.y.i., the yoga pants and mat aren't used for yoga. If they were, I might be able to just relax and enjoy the snowstorm. It’s beautiful out there.