Tabitha’s Frosty Day

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“If you've been a listener for a while, you might remember a Halloween story about a black cat.”

A black cat named Tabitha. In that tale, we were introduced to Tabitha's friendly neighborhood, as she explored it under the cover of darkness on October 31st. While her journey was underway, she happened upon a mysterious ginger cat who then vanished into the night. This evening, we'll meet up with Tabitha again, but in an entirely different season. It will be a chance to cozy up under the blankets, while our dignified cat friend patrols her house and yard on the morning after an icy winter storm.

There will be lots of late winter atmosphere, some pancake breakfast and eggs, and even another sighting of the elusive ginger cat. As before, this tale about Tabitha will be narrated by Heather, and was written by Alicia Stefan. So, settle yourself into comfort.

“Do anything you need to get things just right.”

Pumping your pillow, adjusting your position. Perhaps even stretching out your whole body, like a relaxed cat lying in a warm spot. Enjoying a day is in the sun. If you notice that your mind is a little busy, with thoughts, concerns, reminders and the like, just reassure yourself that none of it needs to be addressed at this time.

It can only do so much before you need a chance to recharge. So give yourself permission to rest, both in body and mind. Invite those thoughts and feelings to rest with you. Some of them will return tomorrow when you wake up.

“Others may just fizzle away, because they're not all that important after all.”

In fact, we tend to overemphasize the importance of a lot of our thoughts or concerns when we're lying in bed at night. Perhaps it's the fact that other daily distractions and tasks are no longer present.

It's all we've really got to focus on.

But that's why we're here to give you a gentle calming story to follow along with.

“So again, reassure yourself that all of that stuff can wait, and invite your entire being to relax, settle and rest.”

Let's enjoy a couple of deep breaths together to slow things down even more. Draw the air in steadily through your nose. Hold for a moment. Then enjoy a long exhale. Again, breathing in gently, holding up the top, and slowly releasing it back out.

Perfect.

“Now you are more settled and ready to rest.”

It's time to join Tabitha for another dreamy tale. This is where our story begins. It was that time of year when the light came, just a little earlier in the morning. Tabitha could sense the change, and she didn't question it. Just as the day in the night cycleed through their ever shifting rhythms, the seasons did as well.

The change was so gradual, has to be almost unnoticable for a human. But as a cat, Tabitha was aware of everything that went on around her. The subtle lengthening of the day was something she'd experienced many times before.

The early light didn't bring warmth though, not at first.

It's struggled through the windows in the morning, gently announcing itself. I am here, it would say quietly, but you'll hardly notice me. As the weeks went on, the light would be rose here and more forceful. On a wave of optimism and the promise of new beginnings, it would take charge, spring would arrive. This morning, however, was not rosy or forceful.

As Tabitha watched out the window, the sky transitioned from an inky black to purple to grey. It had been a tempestuous night. Tabitha had snuggled down into her soft cat bed while precipitation had melted the windows of the old house. As the humans had slumbered upstairs, oblivious to the wild weather, the colder season had reaffirmed its hold on the world outside. It is still my time, winter had insisted.

I will have my final hurrah.

“As the darkness lifted, for that was really the best way to describe the late winter morning.”

Tabitha's sleek black form rested comfortably on the back of the couch.

It was the time of the early morning when she always felt a sense of anticipation.

The house was still completely silent, and she was the sole family member who...

She alone would watch the darkness turn to light. It was a very important job after all, and somebody had to do it.

“As the outlines of the trees and houses and cars appeared outside the window, Tabitha saw that the world had been transformed overnight.”

When darkness had fallen yesterday, the street had worn the tired trappings of a long winter. Piles of dingy snow had lingered around driveways in mailboxes, sand and gravel had coated the curves all along the street outside.

The trees had stretched their black limbs toward the skies, long devoid of their beautiful fall foliage, and not yet showing at any signs of spring.

But the storm had brought a magical change.

“First, it had deposited a very thin layer of white snow over every dark and drab color in the neighborhood.”

And just as the soft dusting of sugar had been complete, it had been followed by ice. That melting and framing and clattering she'd heard in the darkness had been water falling and freezing. And now a top that pristine white snow, there was a slick coating of what looks like glass. The pavement shown in the street lights, but most beautiful of all, the branches of every old tree were now covered in sparkling ice and long dripping icicles.

“Even for Tabatha, who had seen just about every kind of season, this view was something to take note of.”

As she stared out the window, she knew immediately that this would not be an ordinary day. That feeling was confirmed, as soon as she heard the alarm clock sound in the bedroom upstairs. Usually there would be a lag of a few moments, and then the shower would start running. Eventually the humans would come downstairs, dressed in their daytime clothes, and start making breakfast in the kitchen.

That was almost always the way of things.

This morning, however, nobody turned on the water. Instead the man came downstairs in his bathroom and stood staring out the window, craning his neck from side to side. Then he pulled out his electronic device and hooked at it, shaking his head. He called quietly upstairs to the woman, who followed in her pajamas. She too stared out the window, and they exchanged words and loud whispers.

Then they both went back upstairs with the man typing on his device as he walked. She could hear them clunking around their bedroom after that. Presumably, they were getting dressed. But while that was going on, more interesting activities began outside. The neighborhood was bringing to life, and nothing was preceding as expected.

Normally, neighbors would come out of their houses and get in their cars to drive away.

Some of them would walk their dogs.

Then children would pour out of the front doors after which they would walk or ride bikes are even be fetched by yellow school buses.

“This morning, it was as if the usual flow of life was all gummed up.”

The man across the street opened his door. He was wearing boots and carrying a snow shovel. He walked buried gingerly down the front steps, holding on to the railing with one hand. Then he began trying to push the snow and ice off the steps behind him.

It was a messy business. The shuffle wasn't working very well.

At one point, he got frustrated and let out a squawk as he slipped and fell on his backside in the headdrow.

“Looking around himself, to see if anyone had been watching, he stood up again,”

dusting the snow off his wet behind. Then the woman next door carefully exited her large Victorian house. She had her poodle with her on its leash. In typical fashion, the excitable poodle was extremely nervous to be outside in this new icy terrain. It sat at the front steps, reluctant to go any further, as the woman coaxed it gently forward.

Then at first opportunity, it dragged her back and to the porch.

“She let the dog back inside, but not before turning around and calling out to the neighbor who was trying to shovel his walk”

across the street. They waved at each other and just titulated wildly, clearly agitated by the situation. Then the poodle lady went back inside the house. Tabithas, observations of the neighbors were interrupted by the man returning from the upstairs, dressed differently than usual. He opened the front closet and rummished around, pulling out cumbersome footwear and all kinds of wrappings. Then putting on a ridiculous looking hat, he disappeared into the kitchen and opened the door to the backyard.

A gust of frigid air puffed into the lower level of the house and lingered. Tabithas sniffed it delicately with her little black nose. It had a fresh damp scent to it, cold and water, she thought. Topping gracefully down off the couch, Tabithas stalked into the kitchen on velvet paws to investigate further. Lo and behold, in his haste, the man had left that back door a jar, and this meant she could access the cat portal in the storm door.

Sensing that her window of opportunity was brief, Tabitha trotted to the opening and pushed her way through, like water slipping through a sieve. Oh, it was a wondrous and alien world outside. Winter was generally an indoor season for Tabitha. It was a time when the humans simply closed all the doors, and she stayed inside by the fire, or nestled into a pile of blankets on the couch.

It had been many months since she'd been outdoors, in fact. And the last time, whenever it was, the backyard had been completely different. At that time, the ground had still been littered with piles of earthy smelling leaves. A smell of wood smoke had lingered in the air.

The ground had been hard, and the grass visible, but yellow.

Now there was no grass anywhere, and the ground was a barely tolerable temperature beneath her feet.

“It crunched lightly under her paws, but not very much, for she was not a large cat.”

In her surprise at the chill under her feet, she ran faster, trying to shorten the time that her paws were touching the ground. This did not really help matters. Tabitha scurried through a hole in the picket fence, emerging in the yard of the big house next door.

Once there, she hopped up into the neighbor's sprawling wooden front porch.

There, the planks were comparatively warm and dry, being covered by a nice roof. This was far better, she thought.

“Then, a little wiggly, she strolled over to sit in front of the living room window and planted herself, staring inward.”

Sure enough, the yabby poodle sprang to the back of the couch inside, and went absolutely mad.

Tabitha blinked her luminous eyes lazily, sitting still as a statue, except for the twitching of the end of her tail.

This drove the poodle to the edge of reason. It hopped down from the couch, barking more loudly than before, determined to summon a human. Tabitha waited patiently, as she expected, the poodle was soon back at the window, continuing its protest.

“The only way the woman inside was able to stop the barking was to lower the shade between the dog and the glass.”

When she had done that, the silly poodle was satisfied, believing that Tabitha was gone. There was such basic creatures she thought to herself. Despite her victory over the poodle, she was starting to get cold. Looking around, she realized she also felt very exposed. In other seasons, her dark color was a boom to her. It enabled her to slink, unseen through the shadows of hedges, and tuck herself into corners without being noticed.

But in this blindingly wide sparkling world, her shiny black fur made her conspicuous. Whether there were hardly any leafy places to hide. Tabitha was a watcher, not a participant. She liked to be above and beyond the action. Sitting out there, plain as day on the neighbor's porch, did not suit her. Bracing herself, she hopped down the front steps and made it be lined through the hole in the fence.

As she slipped through, a freezing cold drop of water fell on her from a tree branch above. This made her increase her speed, and she quickly launched herself onto the back stoop of her own house. She arrived only to find that someone had closed the door, blocking her reentry. Oh dear, she thought, the humans were unaware she was outside. At that moment, she heard the sound of metal clinking on the flagstones out front.

Instinctively she knew that she would have to find an alternate way inside.

Making haste, she darted through the bushes on the side of the house and emerged at the front.

“Sure enough, the man had opened the door to the garage, and he was ineffectually hammering away at the frozen precipitation on the driveway.”

He looked up and surprised as Tabitha's light, black-formed flu-pastom at the top of the driveway, where she slipped inside the dry garage, the man uttered a sound of surprise, and put a shovel down, clopping in to follow her.

When he got there, he found her sitting on the steps to the interior door, switching her tail.

He bent over and put his hands on his knees, cooling at her in the most irritating manner.

“Exasperated, she resorted to a tiny meow, which she hoped would sound pathetic enough that he would simply let her in.”

Luckily, this worked. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, allowing Tabitha to re-enter the billowing warmth of the heated house.

Goodness, what a relief she thought.

The door closed behind her, sealing off the outdoors, a wonderful smell of pancakes and sausage and bellaptor. She sat on the edge of the kitchen to observe what was happening there.

“The woman put a glass of milk on the table, and then called upstairs.”

"William," she said in the sing-song voice, "I have pancakes ready." The response was a light thumping of feet on the ceiling, as a little person launched himself off his bed and came scurrying downstairs, dragging a teddy-looking blue blanket. His mother had mornished him to leave blanky away from the table, or it would get covered in syrup. "William did this without arguing, dropping the beloved item with shockingly careless abandon in the doorway. He padded across the tile floor with his footied pajamas, making a light slapping noise, and then got up into his chair to grab his fork.

The woman cut his pancakes and doused them in syrup. She then placed a few pieces of sausage on his plate, leaving a serving plate with more of it in the middle of the table. When the woman walked away, Tabitha made her move. Taking a slinky path around the legs of William's chair, she made sure the tip of her tail would be visible to the child. As he chewed his pancakes, he peaked over the edge of his seat and giggled a Tabitha, who stayed just far enough away to make sure he couldn't get his sticky hands on her clean fur.

Then, as she hoped, his plump little hand reached down and left a half of a piece of sausage near the chair leg. Nonchalantly, she walked under the table and devoured it. Then, before his mother could notice, she scooted back into the living room, licking her chops with satisfaction. Returning to the back of the couch, she quickly bathed her paws, wiping them over her face. She did this with precise movement, hold my ears of practice. Keeping herself immaculate was non-negotiable. Tabitha took great pride in her appearance as any cat should.

Once she felt like her fur was back in order, she turned and squinted into th...

The gloom of the early morning had given way to brilliant sunshine, and she could sense that the temperature was rising as well.

“The street was quiet, nobody was driving, the real show was the ice.”

With the morning brightening up, every branch, every railing, and every icicle lined rooftop was madly sparkling. That ice which had seemed dark and hard an hour ago now took on a flushest beauty. The entire landscape of the street seemed fleetingly transparent.

It was cold, yes, but breathed takingly lovely.

Tabitha watched, as the man chipped half-heartedly away at the slippery chunks under his feet. A neighbor with a dog stopped at the end of the driveway, and seemed to have some opinions about his ice removal methods.

“Tabitha heard the muffled sounds of their conversation through the window, and watched as the dog tugged at his leash,”

investigating the ice piles with excitement.

The two men made some broad gestures and waved to each other, and the neighbor walked on.

The man returned to the garage, and came out with a bag, and started scattering sand all over the place with a little scoop. Then he chucked the shovel into the yard, and stalked back into the house. People were so inscrutable at times, Tabitha thought. At that moment, William came bopping into the living room, grabbing his blanky on the way.

“He popped himself down on the floor, as his mother ignited the entertainment box,”

clicking through the channels until William cheered with approval. Then she murmured something to him, placed the remote control on the table, and left him to his program. Tabitha preferred having the living room to herself. This would not do. She politely strode to the end of the couch, and hop down onto the floor. She knew the upstairs of the house would now be the most peaceful place.

With a graceful, loathing gate, she made her way to the top, and entered one of the bedrooms. The back of the house was cool and shady, as it faced west. Later, there'd be a beautiful sunset to watch from there. At the moment, the view from that bedroom window was actually a relief from the brilliant reflections in the front. Tabitha sat on a wooden chest under the window and peered outside.

A bright red cardinal was sitting in a nearby tree. It startling plumage, a stark contrast through the ice and snow covered branches. She was distracted by the rudely loud chattering of a squirrel nearby. It was making a ruckus, clearly agitated about something on the ground. Following its gaze, she saw something very surprising far below.

It was an enormous ginger cat. She knew this cat immediately. It didn't appear often, but she had last seen him on Halloween, as she had made her rounds of the neighborhood.

A ghost, it flitted from house to house with Tabitha always and careful pursuit.

In the end, he had been bold enough to face her in her own backyard.

“But instead of emanating hostility, it seemed calm and aloof.”

Then he had vanished, almost as quickly as he appeared, leaving her oddly discombobulated. And being discombobulated was not a normal feeling for Tabitha. Now on this most unlikely of days, there he was, out in her front yard like he owned the place.

And in this weather, it was inconceivable she marveled.

Tabitha froze her entire body on alert.

“Only her tail twitched with vigilant energy.”

She sat like that for several minutes, and during that time, the ginger cat stayed planted in the yard, motionless. It was as if the two cats were connected by a mental threat, even though the ginger cat couldn't possibly have seemed Tabitha, sitting far above him inside the house.

Then very suddenly, a cold gust of wind rattled the icy branches outside.

A cloud of snow gusted across the ground, forming a little whirlwind around the ginger cat. He raised his nose high into the air, sniffing delicately, as if he sensed something invisible on the breeze.

“As if he was determining what was a foot all around him.”

When the gust subsided, he was still sitting there, but his orange fur was tipped with snow. He looked like a creature of the frost. Then casually he stood up and began to walk across Tabitha's backyard, striding confidently for the other side of the house. All at once, Tabitha was leaping to the ground. She ran into the hallway and entered the bedroom on the other back end of the house, stepping around items on the dresser and sticking her head between the sheer curtains.

She was just in time to see the ginger cat round the corner and head toward the front. Wasting not a moment, Tabitha jumped back onto the carpet and ran across the hall into Williams' room. This was the sunny side of the house. His twin bed lay in a wide sunbeam, his tetties spilling onto the floor, and his pillows mushed in the corner. She leaped up onto his toy box and stood on her hind legs, examining the place outside where the other cat was likely to emerge.

Sure enough, he came strolling along without a care in the world. Meanwhile, the man was no longer in the driveway. The warmth of the sun had melted the ice in many places, creating a pop-marked landscape with little pools of water. The ginger cat wove his way, expertly, around those small obstacles, as sure a foot as he was confident in his right to walk through Tabitha's yard. She found him quite annoying.

Then, as a final affront, the ginger cat strode right across the melting snow in the front yard. As he did, another gust of wind blue, and what snow and water shower down, hailing all around him.

Unbothered, he continued on his way.

Then, just as he reached the little hole Tabitha used in the picket fence, he stopped, turned, and appeared to stare straight at her.

Tabitha didn't move a muscle.

“For what felt like an impermanible time, the two cats seemed to lock eyes, each waiting for the other to make a move.”

Then, as if late for a date, the ginger cat turned and slipped away through the fence. Slowly, Tabitha relaxed and set down on the toy box. She stayed that way in the sun beam, pondering this ginger cat to it reappeared in her life.

Once again, so comfortable in her yard.

He was truly an enigma, but perhaps she wouldn't mind so very much if he came back again. She thought it did make the day interesting. At that moment, William came tumbling into his room, his television show was over.

“Tabitha laid herself down in the sun, and watched him tentatively as he dumped his building box out of a basket,”

and began stacking them, driving his toy cars around the structures he had created. William made motor noises, he growled and groomed and puttered. He laid down on his side, and eyed the cars from the level of the floor, expanding just a little less energy on his play with each passing moment. Then he abandoned the cars and started rolling back and forth,

wrapping himself up in his blanket, and then unwinding. His blonde hair took on static, and stood off his head in a comical manner.

“Then his eyelids drooped, and he felt quiet, routing his hands over the warm carpet.”

In moments he was asleep. Tabitha was feeling a bit tired herself. She stood and stretched, and then hopped into the floor, walking over to where William lay, curled into a seashake on the carpet in the sun. Turning around, she plopped herself into the curb of his body,

resting her chin on her paws, and then cuffering her nose with her tail. She melted into his little boy breaths, as his body rose and fell behind her. The warmth was irresistible, and her eyes slowly closed. She felt the light outside her eyelids, and pictured the droplets in the ice, raining down from the branches outside.

Winter's last gasp was not an enduring one. The days would still get lighter and lighter, and the sun would quickly melt, even the best efforts of the waning season. Downstairs a kettle saying it's cherry song. The door opened and closed.

Someone changed the TV channels. And outside, the breeze continued to rattle the pains of the window. Tab of the thought vaguely of the ginger cat, making his way across the frosty ground. She wondered if she would see him again.

She thought perhaps she might, when the daffodils finally peaked through the soil,