He hates snow, mistrusts grass most of the time, refuses to walk in the fields because it hurts his feet and gravel is what you leap over to get to the nice soft dirt...and forget woods walks. Pine needles? You joke, surely.
And yet every morning before dawn he insists that now he has to go out. (house rule #1: if I can't see the trees as trees, it's too dark...) Right now it's pouring out and every time I let him out he sits here on the porch and stares.
After about fifteen minutes he's paws up and peering in the window, little mouth open-and-close, open-and-close, 'oh my god it's WET out here. let me IN..." Understand, there is no sound there. He rarely makes noise any louder than a muted squeak, but the soundless cry is just as effective.
Sometimes I see him sitting like this, at the edge of the porch, soundlessly berating the sky, the grass, something, because it isn't performing properly. He has a cat door, but to get to it requires a walk through grass that may have been rained on. The entire three foot walk from the porch to the covered culvert pipe that leads to the cat door tunnel...
How he made it up our driveway in late November without a hat or boots or even good gloves, is beyond me.