Sidrick and the snowstorm.
by Jossie Marie Solheim
(bude, cornwall, uk)
You see Sidrick, although young, was not an energetic cat, and despite being allowed to come and go as he pleased, be it indoors or out, Sidrick rarely left the comfort of his well worn spot before the fire. Instead, he chose to stay there until necessity made it impossible to do so any longer, which normally only occurred when he needed to eat, or go to the loo.
Because of this, Sidrick had a somewhat larger than acceptable girth; which, if he could speak, I am quite sure he would claim was not actually fat, but in reality, just fur. Although his fur was long and thick, it could really not be held responsible for his mammoth scale, even if it did add to it. He was, however, a pretty cat with tiny white socks on each of his feet, a white belly and chest, and white etching round his nose and mouth.
His owners were a young couple, who had a two year old son, and his companions where a dumpy Jack Russell cross know as Harvey, and a large, rather stupid, Rottweiler named Boomer. Both of these, Sidrick ignored, just as he did the small boy, all of them being nothing more to Sidrick than an occasional annoyance.
Sidrick began to stretch, noting the rumble in his tummy, which meant, as far as he was concerned, that it was dinner time. Of course, it wasn’t dinner time at all. In fact, Sidrick had eaten only a few hours before. But, as his mistress had just gotten up, and Sidrick knew her to be an easy target when it came to scamming a free meal; he was, as always, determined to take advantage of it.
Following her silently into the kitchen, he gave the most pitiful mew he could muster, followed by his best, ‘I’m wasting away,’ look.
“Oh Sidrick, are you hungry?” She asked, as she headed for the cupboard. A few moments later, to Sidrick’s horror, she re-emerged with a box of cat biscuits. Sidrick showed his disgust at this with another pitiful mew. It was not biscuits that he wanted, but juicy, meaty chunks, drizzled in gravy, and they both knew it.
“You’ve got to watch your waistline Sidrick, or you’re going to burst.” She said, as she picked up his water bowl; and, adding further insult to injury, she carried it passed the fridge and over to the tap. Sidrick tried a final mew, but it was no good, she was sticking firm. Well, he wasn’t eating biscuits. He’d show her; so, off he stalked, out the cat flap in search of something tastier to eat.
Sidrick didn’t really like to catch his own food, but occasionally, when diets threatened, he would give it a go and today was one of those days. Jumping lazily up onto the fence, he gazed across the field, beyond the garden, before he jumped into the long grass and headed out on the prowl.
It was a crisp evening, and the light was just starting to fade, when Sidrick spotted a fat, brown rat, grooming its whiskers, under a gate. Dropping to his belly, Sidrick began to silently creep towards the rat and, just as he was about to pounce, the rat stopped what it was doing; looked up at the sky, then quickly scurried off.
Sidrick followed, keeping low to the ground, certain that the rat had not seen him. The rat moved swiftly, pausing occasionally to sniff the air before scurrying on again. Sidrick was intrigued by the rat’s actions and, still feeling rather lazy, decided to follow behind the rat and find out what it was up to.
Soon, Sidrick was pausing and gazing at the sky too; certain that something had brushed his ear, an irritant that Sidrick found hard to bear. When it happened again, Sidrick dashed at his ear with his paw. Spotting this movement, the rat quickly glanced over his shoulder and spied the cat. The rat sprinted across the field, Sidrick close on his tail. As they ran, winding and weaving their way across the field, neither noticed the snow, which was now falling thickly around them.
At last, the rat reached the spot where its hole should have been; but, instead of a hole, there was a blanket of white snow. Seeing his chance, Sidrick pounced, catching the rat in his mouth and delivering a killer blow.
By the time Sidrick had eaten his fill, everything was white, and the snow was falling so thickly that Sidrick could not see beyond his nose. Letting out a heart wrenching mew at his new found predicament, Sidrick slowly began to move across the snow. He cried out pitifully with fright, as he went; certain that he would be lost forever in this, suddenly cold and menacing, new world.
For, what seemed to Sidrick like hours; but, in reality, was no more than ten minutes, Sidrick paced the snow, searching for home, and longing for his cosy bed before the fire. But, just as he was about to lie down and give in to the snow, he heard the most wonderful voice call, “Sidrick.”
In a flash, he flew towards the voice, faster than he had ever run in his life; and there, before him, was the garden fence and home.
His mistress picked him up and carried him inside; where, to his great joy, he found, waiting for him beside the fire, a large bowl of warm milk.
Sidrick gave up hunting after that, even if it was just water and biscuits for dinner; because, anything was better than being lost in the snow with just a dead rat for company.
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