A four-cat night
It is five o’clock in the morning. The temperature on the more reliable of my several outside thermometers (I collect thermometers like I collect everything else) reads 18 degrees below zero. (Son Seed claimed 22 below at his house.) We have central heating but we don’t turn it on. The temperature inside our dome home was 63 when I first got up at 3 a.m. to toss a couple more logs into our venerable Brunco woodstove. After 40-some years, we still heat with firewood. But we supplement with cats. Sleeping in our recliners is a habit Honey and I gradually acquired because laying ...