Perhaps you should assure your assistants that this year the alleged, divisive mayor of our city is not going to wait until the streets are impassable to advise us to shovel our own walks. He has been chatting with others. Here's what's being proffered, along with "backround":
http://www.portlandonline.com/oni/?c=29385&a=275990

What are the odds that Portland will not again entertain the world with its sliding vehicles and multiple collisions?

The City of Portland has reached an all-time low in winter storm response. And with Mayor Creepy in charge, it isn't going to get any better.

I would check the kittens paws for those ink stamps you get when you pay a cover charge.
We could have some club-hopping party animals here.

Nobody's seen hide nor tail of Tiger for awhile, we all now know how much he likes . . . . . . . OK, won't go there.

Good that you've got your furry friends back, Jack. Cats are pretty smart, and I'm continually reminded how resourceful they are, especially when it comes to hiding places.

Thanksgiving morning, Kisho managed to get his head caught in a sturdy REI paper shopping bag handle. The bag was full of freeze-dried backpacking food which was strewn all over the house by the time we finally corralled him. He was wide-eyed, panting, and seriously frantic, and once freed he departed at near light speed for parts unknown. We figured he'd show himself eventually and went about preparing for our guests.

Family and friends came, did their Thanksgiving best at the turkey, wine, pies, etc., and finally departed about dusk. Well into the evening, after most of the big cleaning was done, we began to look for him. After crossing off the usual or obvious spots, we methodically searched the house from top to bottom with no luck. Only when his buddy Kira kept returning to the barca-couch (reclining ends), did we upend it and discover him high up inside. As best we could tell, he'd been in there all day, including the many hours where folks were essentially sitting on him. Once extricated, he spent a few days afraid of his own shadow (really!), but he's now largely back to his old self . . .

That reminds me of the kittens we brought from L.A. when the band moved here. We were living in this little house near S.E. Duke and our mechanically-oriented harp player had done an oil change on the truck. One of the cats for no apparent reason tried jumping up the outside of this closed window maybe trying to catch a bug or something.
Anyway it dropped back down and landed in a white bucket full of used motor oil.
The band - no doubt stoned out of our minds - went into emergency cleanup mode trying to save the cat. You know how they hate being washed anyway? Imagine what this was like.
It looked clean when we were done but of course it still smelled like oil. Naturally, it was as pissed off as a cat can be, although I maintain it did have a little understanding that we were only trying to help.
We didn't see it for days. There was much speculation on how far it had gone, if it had made it, etc...You know how they lick their fur so much? There was a fear the secondary cleaning would kill it.

So one night the band was sitting in the living room no doubt getting stoned, when out from under the couch, still moving quite slowly, our young cat appeared, to a gentle round of applause.
It had survived and would go on to play a beloved part in the story for several more years to come.

Phew! I know how that feels. Every time my Otis goes out I fret a bit. Glad your kitties made it back home.