Abbie's traumatic experience

Tuesday, 7:50 am

By Kate

Abbie is my other kitty we don’t hear much about. She is petite and a little shy, but she makes up for it by having a lot of determination. Throughout her life, Abbie has felt a kinship with the outdoors and the only thing separating her from nature is a door. Abbie plots. She waits. And when the door opens, she’s prepared to make her dash for freedom. Except during the winter when the cold air tells her that it’s not in her best interest.

Now that spring is in the air, Abbie once again hovers near the door awaiting her opportunity. This morning she found it and as soon as the door was opened wide enough, she streaked through it. My reaction was unexpected. I held the door open and waited for her landing in a soft pile of snow. She sunk ever so gracefully right up to her neck.

Her eyes widened, her fur shot out from her body as if she was electrified. She desperately looked around her for a dry place to run. But there was no dry place. It was all snow as far as the eye could see. I waited with the door opened a little wider.

She leaped out of the snow pile and back through the door without her feet touching the ground. Without even a glance backwards. And, especially, without a look at me. It’s embarrassing to be an embarrassed cat in front of mom.

She’s vigorously giving herself a bath now. With her back turned towards me. That nasty awful snow touched her. It made her feet wet. It made her belly damp. It was cold. It was awful! When she’s recovered some of her composure, she’ll need some warm snuggles.