A scarf at the hearth

A furry stole... or a furry steal?

Fred takes up his customary position, maximizing warmth and comfort, as Gwyn attempts to read his Bukowski*.

The fire flickers, the tail flicks.

Outside in the dark a chilly wind roars in from the coast.

*"In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass."