Every October, an incredible thing happens. As the evenings get cold, almost every member of our cooperative moves toward the same spot at the same time. The heater vent in the living room. We call it the Great Migration, and I joined it this year for the first time.
It was spectacular. I saw tabbies, calicos, a lone gray cat called Moss, all converging on the warm air as though pulled by a rope. The vent hummed. We lay in a circle, face to the grate, whiskers blowing back.
Nobody spoke. We did not need to. We were a herd. I was part of something larger than a nap, and also a nap.
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