“The cat was created when the lion sneezed” – Arabian Proverb
Last Sunday, I was rudely awoken by my human parent opening the window wide, letting in an icy blast of air that made even me, in my fur coat, shiver.
I jumped up obligingly onto the windowsill, which like the courtyard was blanketed in some white stuff called snow.
Still being a baby, I did not understand the significance of this cold and wet white stuff. What is its purpose I wondered, as I went outside to investigate further.
I walked around, gingerly at first, marvelling at how my feet magically left little paw prints behind me as I became bolder and ran around. I even batted about a snowball that was made for me, and dug in the snow with my paws like I was tunnelling to Siberia, flakes flying everywhere. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I refused to go back in the house all afternoon.
Sadly, I learnt that snow can disappear as quickly as a salmon fillet in my food dish, as the next day it had almost entirely disappeared.