Haunted By Cats
Overcast, 27 degrees
Northeast winds gusting to thirty
Three to four feet of snow on the ground, ten to twelve inches new
The winds came up again overnight, and the temperatures haven't risen as I had thought they would. Although the skies are overcast, there isn't any more snow.
I saw Dinky in dreams this morning. I was in bed with the cats around me and she came into the room and stood beside the bed. Although I knew she was dead, I put my hand on her back, to feel her silky-soft fur, but it was heavy and greasy-feeling, as it never was in life. Her eyes were large, though I took her expression to be one of puzzlement more than fear.
"You have to go on now," I told her. "I'll be along in a while..."
I just now realized, in writing this, that it has been exactly one month since she died.
Last night, when I was coming in from work, I saw what could have been cat footprints in the wind-blown snow under the overhang. Only a series of depressions in the snow for a distance of four or five feet and no other sign of tracks any where. A ghost cat?
Or the elusive black-and-white cat? If I could get easily into the addition, I would put some dry food out, just in case he is holing up in there. There is no where else that I can imagine he could have access to right now, as deep as the snow is. I have been guilty of trying to ignore him but I really can't.
It has started to snow again.
Northeast winds gusting to thirty
Three to four feet of snow on the ground, ten to twelve inches new
The winds came up again overnight, and the temperatures haven't risen as I had thought they would. Although the skies are overcast, there isn't any more snow.
I saw Dinky in dreams this morning. I was in bed with the cats around me and she came into the room and stood beside the bed. Although I knew she was dead, I put my hand on her back, to feel her silky-soft fur, but it was heavy and greasy-feeling, as it never was in life. Her eyes were large, though I took her expression to be one of puzzlement more than fear.
"You have to go on now," I told her. "I'll be along in a while..."
I just now realized, in writing this, that it has been exactly one month since she died.
Last night, when I was coming in from work, I saw what could have been cat footprints in the wind-blown snow under the overhang. Only a series of depressions in the snow for a distance of four or five feet and no other sign of tracks any where. A ghost cat?
Or the elusive black-and-white cat? If I could get easily into the addition, I would put some dry food out, just in case he is holing up in there. There is no where else that I can imagine he could have access to right now, as deep as the snow is. I have been guilty of trying to ignore him but I really can't.
It has started to snow again.
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