Ruffled Fur

Here in Madison, Alabama, we're getting our share of the Early January Snowpocalypse:  flakes began to fall sometime after four thirty in the morning, before seven thirty.  Probably very shortly before seven thirty, judging by the speckles on my neighbor's roof.
( not everyone loves it, but we do, my cat and I )

In the last snowfall, Marco looked outside to see why I was dancing around the front yard, in the night, at two in the morning.  He realized it was snow, and started yelling at me to let him out too!:  Marco, who hates being leashed and brought out the front door because it usually means "car trips", called my name imperiously at the top of his lungs until I came back to the door, picked him up and tucked him into the front of my coat, his breastbone against mine, and went back out into the front yard to dance again.  And then wrap him in my scarf, and collect Burch from his bed, and step out into the back yard, and let them both on the table to squeeze the snow in their toes and taste it as it falls from the sky.

He's not here to take joy in winter with me.
But the snow is still beautiful....