Towhee in January around the domicile, and the Grey Cat long gone to the Peaceable Kingdom, where he is probably bored beyond repair. But I am told there is no wind up there, no freezing temperatures, just windows of warm sun to lie in. So probably his nails are long, his teeth good, his whiskers without spider webs. And always he'll have glory days to dream about.
This winter, Carolina Wren are a constant presence around the house. There's a Mrs. on the front porch who might remember the Grey Cat, and maybe sometimes when she sees me move, she'll gain a flight of memory that sends shivers down her back and causes her to cry out in pain. And sometimes too, I wish the Close Mockingbird would notice me enough to at least say "mind your business."