A meow at Christmas

This is an adventure story of a cat and his lady human being one snowy Christmas, not long ago.

Windsor a regal looking tabby cat lived with his middle aged lady owner. Windsor liked to play outside. He loved helping himself to any scraps of food thrown out for the birds. All cats are thieves. Windsor was the best thief in England.

On the day in question Windsor went out as usual. A chilly north wind had blown away the few remaining leaves of Autumn, leaving the ground hard and bare.

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly there was a hush in the air. Windsor stopped and listened. Then it came, little flurries of snow like bits of tiny tissue paper falling from the sky.

Windsor always liked a game. He tried to catch the dancing flakes in his paws as they made their determined way to earth. He reached higher and higher for the next one jumping in to the next garden and the one beyond that......

Then the flurries came faster and faster and Windsors began to feel very cold. Time to go home now he thought but the familiar smells of the gardens had gone. The snow was falling very fast now. The happy noises of children playing sounded hollow to his ears. Windsor was lost in a strange white world.

The dull day time sky gave way to early evening darkness as Windsor huddled against a large prickly plant which gave no comfort. He looked at this forlorn footprints in the deep snow and wondered if this was the end. Children's voices gradually became quiet as one by one tired Mothers called them in for tea. The world was now cold and silent.

Meanwhile back at home Windsor's owner had been writing her Christmas cards, this had kept her busy all afternoon.

Suddenly, the striking clock alerted Windsor's owner. Where was Windsor, he is usually in by now? She went to the door. She called his name. There was no answer, she called louder, again nothing. Shoving large green wellies on to her feet she went to the bottom of the garden and called again.

A long way off Windsor pricked his ears up, he knew that voice. Stumbling in the snow he moved slowly in the direction of the sound and heard his name again. A bit quicker now he followed the human voice he knew so well. With determined steps he ran towards the garden he knew as home. The voice was louder now clear and reassuring. With a loud meow he arrived at the door he knew so well, the door to his home.

Soon a welcome bowl of food and a warm fire melted his memory of the day into a satisfying sleep, Windsor felt secure and loved.

By Anne (Age 65)