Winter's Promises

I promise never to forget where I hide my nuts. Well, or at least to remember that they exist somewhere. I just buried your nut in a snowdrift — but which one? Already forgot. I promise to remember better. (We'll see.)

I promise not to use my winter coat as a tactical advantage to stir up pity. And not to stand perfectly still like this — paw over my heart, posing like a living postcard — when I spot you pulling something that rustles so temptingly from your pocket