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Not that my life is especially trying, but the idea of a snow day conjures feelings of
warmth, snugness and companionship. On a regular weekday, I wander from the bed to the
food dish to the bed or, for a bit of variation, to a chair. The d*g stays downstairs and
sleeps on the couch; my sisfur sleeps on her choice of a bed for the day and, as for me,
I've already described the day's routine. When the snow is falling, there is a certain
stillness which blankets the day. The streets are empty of cars, and as the snow continues
to fall, the distinction between lawn and road disappears. Inside the house, meowmie, home
for a snow day from her school, lights the fireplace and the sweet smell of the wood draws
me downstairs. I love to sit and watch the fire flicker. The added bonus of the warmth
continues to pull me closer to the screen. A sudden snap from the wood makes me jump but
never too far. When meowmie sits on the rocker close to the hearth, I decide she’s the
better option. I get the warmth but also the love as she strokes my back while she’s reading.
The combination of the fire and the petting lulls me to sleep and sometimes even meowmie
nods off in the calm of the day. Her lap is mine, only mine. This is sheer bliss. Better
yet, I don’t even have to shovel or put one paw in the snow.
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