Snow Good? Snow Way!

The snow looked fresh and pristine, and I hoped this would be fun. It looked so pretty when I gazed out the window, narrowing my deep-blue eyes against the glare of the sun. The snow magnified the sun’s sparkle, and it looked like a field of diamonds. So pretty.

From inside.

But going out in it? I’m not so sure.

“Come on, you chicken! It’s gonna be so fun!” Harold came bouncing up to me, his ridiculous slobbery tongue hanging out, and licked me on the top of my head.

“Eww!” I shrieked. “How many times do I have to tell you!? Keep your sloppy kisses to yourself!” Dealing a lightning-fast blow to the interloper, I fastidiously turned my back on the overeager pooch. A bath was called for, this instant, to repair the damage to my luxurious silky forehead wrought by the mutt. Dogs!

Me? Oh, I’m that finest of creatures, that pampered darling, that queen of all she surveys…a cat. Not just any cat. I happen to be a gorgeous, silky, fluffy, pure-white Persian cat. My magnificent fur rivals the beauty of the snow.

The mutt was back. “Come on! It’s gonna be so fun! Come on!” Harold is a dog of limited vocabulary, and even less brain-power. According to him, everything “is gonna be so fun!” Rain. Snow. Thunderstorms. (He doesn’t have the brains to know he should be afraid of that rumbling, growling power of nature! But I’m a cat. I know things.)

Usually my Human Servant takes my side against his ridiculous schemes. She knows that dogs do many things that a cat would never consider doing. Drinking from the toilet comes to mind. Also eating things - like rotten bones and splintery sticks - that any cat in the world knows ought not to be eaten.

But in this case, my Human Servant seems to agree with the dog: she says going out to play in the snow will be “fun” for all of us. I try to comply with her wishes every once in a while, if it suits my mood. It makes her ridiculously happy, which results in longer petting sessions and occasional treats. So I will give this “snow” a try. It does look pretty.

The HS (Human Servant) has added a number of layers of clothing to her usual attire, apparently in preparation for going Outside in the snow. If only she could grow a luxurious, warm, beautiful coat of fur like mine. Humans are so pitiful.

Finally the HS appears to be ready. She grapples Harold with both arms and drags him away from the door - where he is leaping and clawing at the wood - to enable the opening of this portal to Outside.

Outside is a bit of a mystery to me. I seldom go through the portal, nor do I have any desire to do so. Inside is so nice! Warm, dry, equipped with warm blankets and soft pillows and dishes full of food. Why would anyone in their right mind want to go Outside? (Dogs, of course, are not really in their right mind, now, are they? I mean, they’re dogs. One questions if they even have a mind.)

As the HS opens the door, Harold goes barreling through it in his usual rambunctious manner, knocking the HS aside. She careens into the wall, but laughs instead of yelling at Harold for his rude behavior. Sometimes I don’t understand humans any more than I understand dogs.

An unusual phenomenon occurs around the portal: air comes rushing Inside, much like the air rushes out of those tiny gates near the floor when the noisy basement thing roars. “The furnace” she calls the thing. But - wait - something is wrong with this air. It’s - it’s - it’s cold!

Ugh! I shake my chilled feet and back up rapidly from this uncomfortable phenomenon. As I turn my back on the portal, intending to retreat deep into the Inside, the inconceivable happens! My Human Servant GRABS me! She clutches me around my delicate waist! What is she doing?

I am too surprised to react! The HS never manhandles magnificent me! I am frozen in shock. What next?

And then - treachery! She carries me Outside and drops me in the snow!

The snow is horrible! It’s cold. It’s wet. It freezes me instantly into a cat-sicle. My glorious fur is soaked and matted. My toes shrink from the icy ground. The snow is all around me, I’m buried in it. In one tremendous leap, I launch myself from my icy crypt and land, in one glorious swoop, back Inside.

And my Human Subject laughs. How. Could. She.

Well. I know where she sleeps.

I will have my revenge. Cats always do.