Saturday, January 24, 2026, -2.7* F, 40% RH, 0736
Mariah waltzes removing coats, gloves of white from branches. Tinge of frost. Soleil refuses to dance, holds her gaze of the landscape. The three dash outside down the ramp into snowy fenced-in-land. No one shivers. Zayne, one paw on glass as if pressing a doorbell or a secret panel that opens the door for him. I was right there waiting; the door required two hands to pull it open. They return one by one I stand waiting.
The three wanted to go out again after I dressed. “No. We are not doing that. It’s too cold.” Tails stopped wagging, Ruger stopped talking. Coffee dripped into a red cup. The three disappeared to their beds. Thin line of condensation, frost inside windows where they lock breeding ground for mold.
In everything I must reason.
Photo: LJ Austin
