The cold wind that’s been blowing all week has started to scatter the clouds, letting sunlight sparkle on the clean white of snow for a minute. Then the clouds cover over again and drop flakes fat and soft. They caught on Vesper’s hair and made her nose twitch.
I slipped out of work early today after a busy morning, taking my time sweeping dust bunnies from corners long neglected on an unexpectedly quiet afternoon. Vesper and Alaska love that game, hiding under the bed while I sweep or chasing the dust mop back and forth across the floor. It was just us; our man has taken to the woods despite the freezing temperatures.
And later, I took them outside into the snow.
Vesper must have remembered it from last year. She dropped her head and tunneled through it, pausing now and again to smell the air or listen to a car start on some other block. There are twisting trails through the yard now, where she ran, her coat bushing thick at the cold.
Alaska ran straight for the door, clawing at my arm when I tried to pick her up. She didn’t seem to notice the snow, running through Vesper’s trails to get back, away from the strange, the cold, the open that means danger in some instinct I don’t think she understands.
Now we’re back inside, in the warmth that I’m oh-so-grateful for. They’ve curled inside the front pocket of my hoodie, fallen asleep. Their bodies are pressed against mine, and I’m not far from falling asleep myself.
Unplanned afternoons at home don’t get much better.