Invariably, February hits and suddenly, winter's started to get long. There's no denying we're in the doldrums of the season.
We stopped to check out the coyote tracks:
The saving grace of February is that the days are getting longer:
Our Old Hag Schatzie isn't doing so well, and we've had too many discussions about just how numbered her days are. Calling the shots where a nearly 27 year-old cat is concerned is hard - she has good days and bad days. If I had the slightest inkling she was in pain, I'd call the vet to the house, but she's still an affectionate little velcro-cat who demands her food and continues to clean her snout on my right elbow as she settles in on the couch for another protracted nap. Litter box accidents are now more of a rule than an exception, and it's not enough for me to justify ending her existence. In the interim, I pet her little head, rub her under her chin, and her gratitude fills me. She's the only living link we have with the past, and the last remaining vestige of Mr. Lefebure, and putting an end to her days would be premature, I think.
I've even kept the Christmas lights up (as I am wont to do), and still light them from time to time:
So, despite the snow, and freezing rain, and cold temperatures, we have
longer days, clear skies and our little menagerie sitting by the fire,
vying for the best spot.