There was something about the fall, the cool mornings, the days becoming shorter. It seemed everything was preparing for the cold that would soon be upon them. Mark listened to the crackle of wood as he started the early-morning fire in the woodstove to take the chill out of the air.
Still barefoot after pulling on blue jeans and a navy sweatshirt, he heard the familiar sound of Billy Jo’s three-legged cat, Harley, munching on kibble. Lucky, his mutt, and Sarge, a light lab, appeared at the sliding glass door, evidently ready to come in, too. He walked over to the door and opened it, taking in the quiet. He’d left his wife sound asleep.
“That was quick this morning,” he said to his dogs. The wind was cold, and the rain was just holding off. A light frost, the first of the season, covered
