Snow cats!

I always get high when it snows. I feel as if I've drunk champagne and I want to frisk and frolic and squeal like a small child who just can't wait to go out and build a snowman or climb on a sledge and whizz off into the unknown. I love the sparkle and scrunch of freshly fallen snow. I love the exciting new shapes it makes, clumping on bushes like snow flowers and softening fences and rooftops. A covering of snow makes you take a new look at a world that is no longer so familiar. Your eyes tingle along with your chilly skin.

Cats, now: they seem to have their own individual reactions to the cold wet stuff. Flad hates it. He puts off going out till he can't wait any longer. Then he takes the shortest route to the nearest bush. Here he is, just about to nip behind one, flicking his paws in distaste.

Charlie, on the other hand, makes a game of it, pouncing on it, patting it, leaping up, whisking his tail. Charlie's tail is unlike any other I have seen on a cat. It's by far the most active. He's forever swishing and rotating it, as if sending messages via semaphore. He doesn't mind walking in snow, or even sitting in it. Here are some snaps of him, his orange fur making a glorious contrast with the whiteness around him.

Flad is still not happy having Charlie around. In fact, we suspect we may be sharing Charlie with another household, because he looks suspiciously well fed and only gets a sachet a day and a saucer of biscuits from us... Unless, of course, he sneaks in and nicks Flad's when we're not looking. Twice now, we've found him on the bed looking very contented but slightly guilty, having pussy-footed up the stairs when our backs were turned. At night, he sleeps in a bed in the kitchen and Flad sleeps on the sofa.

Having had Flad for fifteen years, we'd forgotten what a young cat was like. Two-year-old Charlie has so much energy. Flad is silent, but Charlie meows loudly and frequently. He's also highly intelligent. I just have to say "Bed" to him and he gets into it, and he's already jumping up at doorhandles and trying to open doors. Flad makes us do everything for him. Hmm... Perhaps that means Flad is really the more intelligent one after all!