Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Definitely a Snow Bengal!

Hello . . . it's Chloe, here.
Yes, I know that my Mum likes to write these letters, but you can't always trust her to get her facts right.  On really important matters, such as the art of 'snowman climbing', I'm sure you'd agree that you need the account of an expert . . . in this case, a Bengal expert.

The first point that we need to establish is that there are different kinds of Bengal cats.  I'm what is known as a Snow Bengal.
When I first came to live with my Mum I don't think she fully appreciated this fact.  She was clearly surprised when I politely refused to sit in the sun.  Then she was surprised all over again when I puffed and panted and lost my appetite in the summer heat.

I kept trying to explain that my ancestors came from the snowy mountains of West Bengal, but they don't seem to have taught geography when my Mum was at school . . .  either that or she didn't listen.

When, at last, the the weather turned really cold, everyone realised what it is that a true Snow Bengal really enjoys . . . top of our favourite treats is wonderful, crisp, cat-captivating snow!

Which  brings me back to the skilled art of 'snowman climbing'.

The first essential is to keep a keen eye open for a handy snowman.
Children can usually be relied on to persuade their Dads to build them a snowman.  But, as children are sometimes a little over-enthusiastic where cats are concerned,  you don't offer active help.

Instead, you hover quietly in the background and bide your time.

It can help the deception if, whilst you're waiting, you lean casually on a snowball and look in the other direction .  . pretend you're not in the least bit interested.

Then, when the snowman has been built, and Dad has taken the children indoors for their lunch, all your patience is rewarded and, at last, you can make your move.

You need to be careful, a snowman can prove a little slippery at first, but, if you dig your claws into the ice and grip tight, you soon make good progress.

Not only that, once you've made certain that no-one's looking, what self-respecting cat could possibly ignore the challenge of yanking out that carrot nose . . .  and making a bee-line for those beady, green-grape eyes?

The final stage of the climb, from the shoulders to the top of the head, takes a considerable amount of care . . . you really need to be a sure-pawed Snow Bengal to tackle this successfully.

Then . . . once you've established your balance on the very top of the snowman's head . . . well, you're Queen of all you survey!

But glory can be short-lived.
Guess how my Mum reacted when I achieved this magnificent feat?
"Time to go in," she announced . . . unceremoniously whisking me off the summit. And, before I had time to draw breath and complain, we were back indoors.

However, I must admit that she did have a delicious lunch waiting for me!

Wouldn't you think that something as wonderful as snow would want to linger and be enjoyed . . . would want to spread its many pleasures as widely and generously as possible?

Not on your life!  When I poked my head between the curtains the other morning the snow, all that beautiful snow, had melted.
Where was the snowman?  Where were the snowballs?
All I could see were three patches of grubby slush fast disappearing on the grass.
Oh, I can't tell you how upset I felt!

Is there, I wonder, any possible way that a snow-loving Bengal cat can get her snow back . . . ?
Surely I won't have to wait until next winter for more of that intoxicating, cold and crunchy fun?

Between you and me, and I know it doesn't happen very often, but there are times when a cat's life just doesn't seem fair!