Tons of snow today. In the cab on the way in to work I wished I had a cat -- a Siamese or a Persian that I’d name Pyewacket and sing to like Kim Novak in Bell, Book and Candle. I’d refer to Pye as my familiar and carry him around the house with me, too in tune with one another to be separated for even a moment. I’d learn to purr.

Cats seem like proper company in bad weather. They go well with chenille robes and warm soup and spending the day in bed. This is of course a fantasy. Reality is litter boxes, claw marks, and an ass in your face when you’re trying to read a book.