Narrator Heather (8:04)

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 and the night cycled through their ever shifting rhythms, the seasons did as well. The change was so gradual as to be almost unnoticeable 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, something she'd experienced many times before. The early light didn't bring warmth, though, not at first. It 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 rosier 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 inky black to purple to gray. It had been a tempestuous night. Tabitha had snuggled down into her soft cat bed while precipitation had pelted 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 was alert. Shepherding in the day, 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 and mailboxes. Sand and gravel had coated the curbs 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 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 pelting and raining and clattering. She'd heard in the darkness had been water falling and freezing. And now, atop that pristine white snow, there was a slick coating of what looked like glass. The pavement shone in the streetlights. But most beautiful of all, the branches of every old tree were now covered in sparkling ice and long, dripping icicles. Even for Tabitha, 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 bathrobe and stood staring out the window, craning his neck from side to side. Then he pulled out his electronic device and pulled poked 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 in 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 springing to life and nothing was proceeding 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 or 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 very 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 shovel 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 hedgerow, 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 into 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 gesticulated wildly, clearly agitated by the situation. Then the poodle lady went back inside the house. Tabitha's observations of the neighbors were interrupted by the man returning from the upstairs. Dressed differently than usual. He opened the front closet and rummaged around, pulling out collapse, 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. Tabitha sniffed it delicately with her little black nose. It had a fresh, damp scent to it. Cold and water, she thought. Hopping gracefully down off the couch, Tabitha stalked into the kitchen on velvet paws to investigate further. Lo and behold, in his haste, the man had left that back door ajar, 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 human 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. The 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 Scott scurried through a hole in the picket fence, emerging in the yard of the big house next door. Once there, she hopped up onto 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 wickedly, she strolled over to sit in front of the living room window and planted herself staring inward. Sure enough, the yappy poodle sprang to the back of the couch inside and went absolutely mad. Tabitha blinked her luminous eyes lazily, sitting as 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, Tabitha turned and strode back to the top step of the porch, facing the street and feeling as smug as could be. Dogs were 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 boon to her. It enabled her to sleep, blink unseen through the shadows of hedges and tuck herself into corners without being noticed. But in this blindingly white, sparkling world, her shiny black fur made her conspicuous. Further, 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 a beeline for 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 re entry. 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 in surprise as Tabitha's lithe black form flew past him. 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, clomping in to follow her. When he got there, he found her sitting on the steps to the interior door switch. Switching her tail, he bent over and put his hands on his knees, cooing 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 sleep sausage enveloped her. 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 a 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 tatty looking blue blanket. His mother admonished him to leave blankie away from the table or it would get covered in silver. William did this without arguing, dropping the beloved item with shockingly careless abandon. In the doorway, he padded across the tile floor with his footy 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 peeked over the edge of his seat and giggled at 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 scooped 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, honed by years 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 the morning light. The gloom of the early morning had 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 was madly sparkling. That ice, which had seemed dark and hard an hour ago, now took on a luscious beauty. The entire landscape of the street seemed fleetingly transparent. It was cold, yes, but breathtakingly 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 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 blankie on the way, he plopped 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 hopped down onto the floor. She knew the upstairs of the house would now be the most peaceful place. With a graceful loping gait, 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, its startling plumage a stark contrast to 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. He didn't appear often, but she had last seen him on Halloween as she had made her rounds of the neighborhood. Like a ghost, it flitted from house to house, with Tabitha always in careful pursuit. In the end, he had been bold enough to face her in her own backyard, but instead of emanating hostility, he had 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 thread, even though the ginger cat couldn't possibly have seen Tabitha sitting far above him inside the house. Then, very suddenly, a cold gust of wind rattled the icy branch. 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 afoot 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 William's room. This was the sunny side of the house. His twin bed lay in a wide sunbeam, his teddies spilling onto the floor, and his pillow smushed 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 pockmarked landscape with little pools of water. The ginger cat wove his way expertly around those small, small obstacles. As sure afoot 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 blew and wet snow and water showered 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 interminable 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 sat down on the toy box. She stayed that way in the sunbeam, pondering this ginger cat who had 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 blocks 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 vroomed and puttered he laid down on his side and eyed the cars from the level of the floor, expending 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 blond hair took on static and stood off his head in a comical manner. Then his eyelids drooped and he fell quiet, running 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 C shape on the carpet in the sun. Turning around, she plopped herself into the curve of his body, resting her chin on her paws and then covering 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 and 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 sang its cheery song. The door opened and closed, someone changed the TV channels, and outside the breeze continued to rattle the panes of the window. Tabitha 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 peeked through the soil and spring had arrived once again. And then she was asleep. Sam.