This is our Autumn

At 4.15am yesterday, Leo decided he wanted to go to the toilet, so I had to get up to let him outside. If he does that—which isn’t often—it’s usually between 4 and 4.30, and most common of all is this particular time.

When I opened the slider to let him out, I thought to myself, “oh my goodness, it’s rather chilly outside”. I’d been sound asleep only a couple minutes earlier, so I can’t remember precisely what I said, but I’m sure that must be close.

Leo often lingers outside, after his mission, just to sniff the air to see what’s going on in the neighbourhood—“reading the local news,” as Nigel used to say. This time, though, he popped back inside pretty quickly. Apparently he thought it was rather chilly, too.

We went back to bed, and I had to check: It was 2.2 degrees outside at that moment (35.96F), which meant it was the coldest night of the year—so far. I pulled the covers up and cocooned myself, and Leo promptly snuggled up against me, where he remained until we got up in the civilised morning hours.

By Noon, the temperature had risen to 16 (60.8F), just one measly degree below the predicted high. Leo decided to lie on the back of the sofa (photo up top), looking at the empty street and the intermittent pale sunlight that managed, briefly, to get past the cloud cover.

This is our Autumn.