In Like a Lion

It’s just after 9 pm. Directly at my back, the window is rattling with the latest blustering storm. The snow will be changing to maybe six inches of ice pellets around midnight. A siren is wailing a few blocks away, but here in the living room all is peace. If I stretch my arms out backwards, I can touch each of our pets: to my left, the cat is curled up on his carpeted tower; to my right, the dog is nestled in the papasan.

On the other side of the living room, bundled in a velours housecoat the colour of a Good Humour Strawberry Shortcake ice cream bar, my partner softly rattles the keys of her own computer, writing her latest blog entry.

I’m finishing a small glass of Drambuie. It’s been a busy day, and yesterday was a very long one, so I’m going to follow the lead of our pets and head for bed. Maybe I’ll manage to read one or two pages of Emily Carr’s Growing Pains before my eyes stop blinking and my lids still for the night.