Zinda has never really seen snow as far as we can tell. She’s a summer babby (Oh, my sweet summer kitten) and while was rescued from an outdoor life with a crooked kink in the tip of her tail, not sure how much of the elements she really endured before we rescued her. One thing’s for certain, she’s never been terribly interested in resuming an outdoor life, and has, in fact, fled from the open front door as if the outside was going to bite her.
During our water-less adventure, we experimented a bit with melting some snow in a plastic bin collected off of the deck. As can be expected with over two feet of snow and wildly forming snow drifts, we got a little bit of snow in the house that wasn’t in the bucket. I made a snowball for Luna to eat, for which she seemed both temporarily amused and grateful. Zinda, kitten of adventure, pouncing, and climbing, stepped in the snowy puddle gathering on the kitchen floor and proceeded to spend the next three minutes gingerly holding it in the air as if it were gravely injured and she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Zinda: “Halp. My paw is wet. My paw is wet. What do I do? My paw is wet.” #sadfacekitten
Later on, Trey, meanest kitten dada ever, gave Zinda another opportunity to experience snow in a warm and controlled environment. He picked her up and plopped her into the gathered snow in the bucket. She has never looked more betrayed in all her life. “I TRUSTED YOU!!!! Ugh. My paw is wet. All of my paws is wet.” #sadfacekittenpartdeux
He did the same evil thing to Luna and she looked at him like he was stupid, hopped off the snow, and walked off. “Um, no thank you please. Bye.”
Far and away, Luna is definitely the more outdoorsy of the pair. After shoveling the driveway, we let her walk out and explore the four foot snow pile right outside the front door knowing it was too wet and too tall for her to really jump in and disappear into. She did test it, though, putting her paws on it and stretching up to see if she could get a view above the bank. Alas, she realized it was cold out there and she really didn’t want to be an outdoor cat after all and was more than happy to come back up to the front door and back inside.
Somehow, though, that piece of information: outside in winter = cold, didn’t really stick in her fuzzy memory. Some crying and whining at the sliding door to the deck ensued a few days ago. I put on boots prepared to wade in the rest of the snow still covering the deck in the event she suddenly got a yen to bound off with reckless abandon. Luna hurried out with a chirp and stopped in her tracks once the first gust of wind hit her. “You didn’t tell me it was COLD!? Why is it cold?!” And back inside she went. I even stood there with the door open for her in case she changed her mind and wanted to resume her exploration. The wind ruffled her fur and her resolve to be indoors stood firm.
Whether a kitten of adventure and fierce hunter attacking at squirrels and birds from the wrong side of a glass window or an old cantankerous lady cat yearning for a few minutes of fresh air and bird taunting, one thing remains common between these felines who couldn’t be more different: Both of ’em are prissy as HELL.