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The house is surprisingly quiet now that Bill’s gone. It might just be the newness of Bill’s death or me missing his deep purr and his ability to keep up a conversation, given half a chance. As head cat, one of his jobs was to announce every night around 11 pm that all was well by going up and down stairs giving a pretty good housecat imitation of those deep lion calls. Most people describe this as “yowling” but I always imagined that Bill was saying what the lions say to each other — I’m here and from what I can see, everything seems to be as good as it can be, so enjoy the evening.

The other cats are not so talk-y, but they are pretty friendly. Deirdre hops up on my lap and follows me around. She likes to pounce on my toes at night. Gus will snuggle for a few minutes but then hops down to pretend that he’s not my baby afterall. Nosireebob he’s a grown up cat now, a pretty big dude and nobody’s baby. Boopsie, well, she’s what you might expect. Perhaps a little less social but not bad for a cat with a feral background many years ago. She’s carved out her own little routine and she keeps her own counsel except when there’s food involved.

Tonight well, it’s just plain old cold, and has been for several weeks. The cats all have beautiful fur because the house is relatively cool. Myself I had to don a few layers and some gloves to take out the trash. The snow was crunchy and sparkly. I remember how exciting “special blue wax” snow was in a past life . The birds have emptied the feeder. I wonder where the 20 or so robins are that I saw in the trees on Saturday. Bad weather for birds that eat worms! All is quiet except the crunch of the snow. The moon is full and bright above. It’s quiet and I miss the nightly message that all is well and I miss the messenger.