Bedding Down In the Colding

For the first time since the end of Summer, Mr. Nobody wears his socks to bed, a sad admission that things were going to get worse. Can't count on the warmth of mother nature's breast to keep his mammalian nature intact. When he wears his socks and he pulls the thin duvet and the extra purple woven Dacron blanket up over himself he feels warm enough to sleep. The cat, Missy, who sleeps on his bed wants to go out. This is Mr. Nobody's worse fear, like a fear of urination a fear that keeps him from resting. Mr. Nobody throws off the blankets, rises, swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his feet on the cold wood laminate floor. He shuffles to the door Missy follows. Opening the back door, he feels the dread of the betrayal. Missy scoots out. Now, before he can sleep, Mr. Nobody has to remember to find her and let her in again, realizing now that William, the male cat had been let out earlier. He will have to recover them both. Mr. Nobody doesn’t know why he cares so much about the discomforts of the cats. He doesn't know if they suffer the terrors of the failing pact with nature as much as he, probably they do not. Mr. Nobody returns to bed, pulls the cover-sandwich package over his legs then over his chest. He rests, planning to rise in an hour to go out and find the cats. Mr. Nobody is certain that when he calls the cats after an obligatory time they will agree to follow him, almost as if they know what's good for them.