by Conny Manero

Created on: December 06, 2008

It was only the middle of November when we got our first, brutal reminder that winter was definitely on its way in Toronto, Canada. It was late into the evening when I noticed that it was snowing. A thin layer of snow had transformed our dull neighbourhood into a magical wonderland.

From the height of our 11th floor apartment, this wonderland stretched out for miles and miles. It was the kind of beautiful sight that is always best shared with someone.

My son was hard at work on the computer though, and when I see pinched eyebrows over narrowed eyes, I know better than to disturb him. So I went for the next best thing, sharing the sight with my other kids, my five cats.

First up was Charlie, an all white, twelve year old. I woke him from his sleep and said "Would you like to see the snow Charlie?" Being carried in my arms, he did not have much choice as to go where I went.

I put him on the windowsill in my son's bedroom and waited for his reaction. Charlie sat there, staring at me. "Look," I said, tapping at the glass of the window, "snow." Charlie, momentarily distracted by the tapping noise, looked in the direction of the window, and then looked back at me.

I could see it in his eyes, he was not impressed. He was probably wondering why I had disturbed him in his nap. What was the big deal? He had seen snow before. It was white, it was cold, and after a few days it turned to slush.

Up next was Chanel, an eight year old Maine Coon. Chanel's paws barely touched the windowsill before she jumped down again. And then she stood there, looking at me, clearly wondering What on earth was that? That white stuff, what was that?'

Chanel has been with me since she was a 7 week old kitten, so there is no history of trauma, yet she is afraid of everybody and everything. I think she would be afraid of her own shadow.

I thought I'd try my luck with Charlotte, a 19 month old Tabby with an attitude.
Charlotte, once deposited on the windowsill, sat gazing at the falling snow like it was money coming down from the skies. She looked up, she looked down, up again and down again. "Snow," I told her, "that's snow." She paid me no attention. So I thought I would let her be and got the next in line, Mickey.

Mickey is a 17 month old tuxedo cat. He was as fascinated by the falling white stuff as Charlotte was. Seated on the windowsill he too looked up, looked down, stuck his head forward to get a better look and occasionally looked at me. "Snow," I told him, stroking his back, "that's snow."

He was

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