The Other Coast by Adrian Raeside for January 29, 2022

It smelled cold

What’s it, boy? Smelled a new variant?

Gibbs does that. He stands at the top of the stairs and sniffs the air. I wish I knew what smells are wafting his way.

My cat seems to be of the same breed.

And if Koko stays inside too long, it won’t smell right in there either.

Can’t say I blame him. The nose knows best.

The squirrels are all asleep!

Always trust the dog’s intuition, they’ve been honing it for centuries.

Hints of sulfur dioxide.

When I walk my cats, occasionally they halt in a “no-go” attitude. I’ve learned to trust their instincts. If a cat, whose senses are ten times more acute than mine, says there is bad mojo, I listen. One day, both cats turned into statues while intently facing an open field. It took me a couple of minutes to spot a coyote, the EXACT color of the dry grass. Neither cat moved so much as an ear, until the coyote disappeared over the horizon.

A dog’s nose knows!