Husband comes from the North, and whenever it gets to winter, he starts complaining how we don’t have heating down South, so the cold cuts right to his bones as if the southern winter has gathered in his joints, icy winds and frosty air slipping right into his marrow, setting up an ice factory in there, enough to make you shiver.

Our flat is full of freezing air, and the wind seeps through every crevice. Husband huddles into a ball, his face ghastly pale, not uttering a sound. I hug Cat and sit next to Husband, neither of us saying a word. This little bit of cold is nothing to me. Soothed by my two-handed petting, Cat drifts off quietly, while heat slowly rises through my fingers, circulating through my body and thawing it until I gradually feel warm again. Cat lies perfectly still on my lap, like a hot-water bottle. Cat’s body is blazing hot, and he transfers his warmth to me, chipping away at the iciness.

One time, I decided to pass Cat to Husband so he could warm up too. As I held Cat up, he swayed slightly and I heard the water in his belly slapping against his skin like ocean waves against the shore. Miraculous cat! From a kettle to a hot-water bottle. Those two objects might not seem very different, but a hot-water bottle is softer, more soothing. It makes you want to hold it and never let go.

Husband took Cat and hastily pressed his face into Cat’s belly, stroking the fur along the grain. I watched as color returned to his face, and his grimace softened into a more natural expression.

Having been thawed by Cat, Husband was back to normal. I asked for Cat back, but it was too late. Husband refused. Clutching him tight in both hands, he kept me from stealing Cat away. He wanted the hot-water bottle all to himself.

Hug a cat and you’ll get warm again. Even if you can’t do that, letting a cat wander around your house is also a good way to disperse his heat into every corner. This mobile hot-water bottle never needs charging or refilling—the cat can simply use the kettle function to heat the water already stored in his body, purr purr purr, whenever anyone needs it, keeping it warm twenty-four seven, which is why a cat feels so toasty whenever you pick him up.

Wherever this bulging hot-water bottle passes by, he leaves a trail of warmth.

Even though Cat knows how to heat himself, he still often creeps beneath the covers to seek warmth from me, pressing his velvety fur into the soles of my feet. I don’t find this ticklish at all—it’s extremely pleasant. As it happens, Cat chooses to situate himself by the coldest part of my body, nuzzling all his warmth into my feet. In the winter particularly, Cat sleeps by my legs all night long, and when your feet are warm, your whole body is sure to follow. When I’ve come up to temperature, Cat and I begin passing heat back and forth, replacing any warmth lost from either of our bodies until we’ve reached equilibrium. And so in heating me, Cat doesn’t lose any of his own warmth but actually ends up even cozier than before.

Cat burrows under the covers during daytime too and often naps there for the entire day. When I see a bump in the otherwise flat expanse of the bed, chances are good that there’s a snoozing cat in there. If I lift the blanket, I’ll find a curled-up feline who lazily shoots me a look, then shuts his eyes again. Slipping my hand between Cat and bed, I feel an instant jolt of toastiness. Sometimes I worry these high temperatures might roast Cat, but perhaps he arrived already roasted, and that’s how he’s able to remain so piping hot.