Newt's First Icy Snow

Newt was one of those cats who got along with other cats by ignoring them. What humans call the cold shoulder, Newt called the hot paw claws extended.

Everything provoked him except the humans who waited on him, feed him and opened the door when he needed to use the big cat box outside. That's right, Newt would not share one of the three indoor cat boxes, and really, who could blame him. There was often a line, and nobody bumped another cat out of the way to cut in, dump and run.

For Newt, life was good. We picked him up as a stray kitten about six or eight months old. He looked pathetic, acted pitiful and meowed helplessly. We fell for it hook line and sinker. Newt, I'm certain did whatever cats do to snicker.

As I said, he used the great cat box outdoors, but also loved being outside. I guess it was his only way of escaping the hissing and occasional howling of his extended family.

And then . . . along came winter. At first, he had no trouble with the cold. He ate a ton of food, grew bushels of fur and went about his business. And then . . . the first snow fell during the night. As soon I I was up, I grabbed the camera to take a few snow scene shots, opened the door and Newt ran outside. Suddenly, he stopped and glanced around as if lost. Knowing his favorite red bench had always proved safe ground, he ran for it leaped up and stopped dead with one foot . . . oops . . . paw in the air.

The poor cat stood that way for longer than could've been comfortable, gingerly put the fourth paw in the snow, turned and went inside the house to await spring.