E.E. King is a painter, performer, writer, and naturalist - She’ll do anything that won’t pay the bills, especially if it involves animals. Find her at www.elizabetheveking.com and amazon.com/author/eeking. "Snow Cat" is in Short Circuit #16, Short Édition's quarterly review.

Everyone loved Auntie Joe's cat T. She got him when he was just eight weeks old—a curious, friendly, fearless gray tiger. He was hilariously clumsy, too. When leaping onto a table, he'd usually collide headfirst with the edge and flip back onto the floor, paws clawing ineffectively at the air.
 
I lived next door to Auntie Joe and Uncle Pete and used to spend more time at their house than mine. Mama had just given birth to my baby brother, Albert, and I was glad to escape the seemingly endless diaper changing and wailing, as well as the flood of Mama's friends and relatives cooing over the baby as if they'd never seen an infant before. Mama was glad not to have me pouting underfoot. Joe and Pete had no children of their own, so they seemed happy with my company.
 
Summer was the best season. The warm days were endless. The watermelons were red and dripping with sweet juice. Some nights, I got to sleep outside on the back screened porch with T in my arms, counting the stars.
I spent most of the time playing with T. He was an explorer, and we spent hours hiding in the long grass by the oak tree, catching grasshoppers by day and fireflies at night.
 
Then fall came, blowing leaves off trees and sending in an early snow. T went to the front door demanding to be let out, as he did every day. He stepped gingerly into the cold and then began digging down frantically, trying to find the warm, green earth. He stayed out as long as he could, and then raced back to Auntie's window, yowling pitifully. Once back inside, he searched for a new reality. He stumbled to the side door, crying for us to open it. He was shocked to discover snow there, too. Then he tried out back. Surely this white stuff couldn't be everywhere?
 
The snow melted quickly, and T went back to playing outside.
 
On October 10th, T went out as usual, but he didn't come home that night. Joe and I were really worried. He'd never done that before. But Uncle Pete said we were worrywarts.
 
"It's normal for cats to stay out all night. They are nocturnal. That means they are ‘creatures of the night,'" he said in a scary Dracula voice. "He's almost a year old, well past kittenhood. He's exploring. Just wait a day or two, and he'll come back."
 
But T didn't return. Auntie Joe and I walked the neighborhood, searching every street and alley. We knocked on doors and talked to neighbors. We made a flyer. We drove to a store and printed fifty copies, which we posted all over the neighborhood. I saw a dead opossum. But no one had seen T.
 
The next year, on April 12th—yes, I remember the date—I was helping Auntie Joe make cookies when we heard a high-pitched wailing at the back door. Joe opened it, and T came bounding into the room. He rubbed his nose violently against Joe's shins and rolled on his back demanding belly rubs.
We opened a can of tuna, and he lapped up the juice happily. But true to form, he refused to touch the actual fish. He wasn't starving, or even hungry. In fact, T looked plump and well- groomed, not at all like a cat that had been lost in the wintry suburbs of Pennsylvania for six months.
 
"Where have you been, T?" Joe asked, cradling him in her arms. T just purred and blinked.
 
All summer, and into the fall, T and I played together happily. Morning after morning, he greeted me, rolling over on his belly for a tummy rub.
 
But when I dropped by on Oct 10th, T didn't come running out the door.
 
"Where's T?" I asked.
"He ran outside yesterday at about 3:00 and didn't come home," Uncle Pete said.
"He didn't come back all night?" I asked.
"No," Pete said, "but don't worry. Cats often stay out all night. T probably knows that summer's ending, and he wants to make the most of the warm nights."
 
But T didn't come back that day or the next. Once again, Auntie and I searched and searched, but it was no use.
 
The winter months passed slowly, as winter often does, but finally spring arrived. I was at home on spring break when the phone rang. It was Auntie Joe.
 
"T ‘s back," she said.
 
I looked at the calendar—April 12th—the exact same day he'd returned before. We didn't know what to make of it. It was a mystery for sure.
 
But things didn't get truly strange until the next year when T vanished once again on October 10th and returned once again on April 12th.
 
That year, when October 10th came around, we were ready. At exactly 3 pm, T ran to the door and started digging at it and crying. Pete opened the door and T leapt over Pete's foot and bounded down the street as though he were late for an appointment. We raced after him, just managing to keep his tail in sight. 
 
After more twists and turns than I could count, T came to a stop outside a silver trailer parked in front of a neat brick house. On the steps leading into the interior stood a fit, elderly woman and a silver-haired man. 
 
"Is that your cat?" Joe called, walking toward the trailer.
T took one look at her and raced inside.
"Why, no," the woman said. "But isn't he the cutest thing? He showed up just about, was it four years ago, dear?" she asked the silver-haired man. He nodded.
"Yes," she continued. "He just appeared right when we were leaving on our annual trip to Florida. We go there every winter. It's just too cold for our old bones here. And little Toby— that's what we named him—just wandered into our trailer, so we took him with us. Well, he was sweet as they come. But when we came back on April 12, as we always do, he ran away. We
looked for him a bit, but he'd just disappeared. The next year, he came back just as we were leaving, and he's joined us on every trip since."
         
Joe, Pete, and I were silent. It seemed wrong to drag T from his trailer. He'd discovered a way to escape winter, and I think we all envied him.
"Well, have a nice trip," Joe said.
"Oh, you betcha," the woman said, mounting the stairs and turning to wave goodbye. We walked home.
 
It wasn't until we got inside, all sitting at Auntie's table, that Pete started laughing. "I'll be darned," he said. "I've heard of snowbirds, but this is the first time I've ever
heard of a snow cat!"

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