Snow Cat
It was March 2018. Instead of looking forward tae spring and summer just around the corner, the clouds were kicking aff big time; aye, I’m talking about SNOWMAGGEDON.
Pain in the arse, eh? Noo I like the snow. It’s no bad if you’re sitting nice and cosy with a wee drink and some munchies. Or a cup of tea and some toast. Nae need tae brave the cold. Jist keepin’ yerself nice and warm as The Beast From The East tears through Scotland.
But naw. That wasnae me. That wisnae whit I ended up daen. Instead, I end up chittering away like wan of those wee bastards in Ice Age. And here’s why. And aye, it’s because of cat again. Aye the same cat. The wan that came back frae the deid. Dinnae remember? Well that’s another story, and ye don’t need to know it the noo, suffice tae say it’s no the first time the wee shit’s caused havoc.
Anyway, Beast From The East. I’m sitting there, quite the thing when I start hearing panicked gasps and yelling. It’s my Mum. She’s shouting and balling. So I run in tae the living room and there she is, hands over her mouth staring out the windae intae the street.. “Whit’s wrong? Whit’s wrong?”
She’s looks at me, ashen white like the snow that’s fell aw aroond us. “It’s the cat. It’s Ringo. He’s stuck, he’s out in the middle of the road in the snow. Oh my god he cannae move, Chris.”
Right well that’s me. That’s aw I need tae hear before jumping’ intae action. No way is that wee bugger goin’ tae fall victim to this Day After Tomorrow-pish.
So I fling my shoes on and fucking high tail out of the house. It’s freezing. I’m no even properly wrapped up. I’m forcing ma way, sprinting through 2 feet of snow, no caring that I’m in my joggy bottoms and a t shirt you can piss through. I’m on a mission. I’m running tae rescue oor cat. I’m basically John Wick. I’m running like…like Tom fucking Cruise — except Tom Cruise efter a heavy meal.
I see the neighbours start coming tae their windae’s. Watching me. Looking on. Hands covering their mouth. “Oh my”, they must be thinking. “Such bravery”. I hold my hands up — to tell them, “Naw, it’s awrite. I’m nae hero — am just doing the right thing.”
I’m almost there, he’s starting to come into view properly now. I can see him scuttling about in the snow in the middle of the road, trying tae escape the cold handed grip of the snow. I’m shitting myself. What if he’s hurt? What if something bad has happened? I get closer, hands stretching out, ready tae rescue. But…something isnae right.
So I start squinting my eyes in the darkness, as I get right up tae him. And that’s when I see it.
It isnae oor cat at all. Turns out it was a bloody bin bag and Ringo was sitting in the house the whole time, sleeping.
Honestly, that cat. He really is suhin else.
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