Snow Way Out

It has been approximately 763 days since winter began. Okay, fine, it’s been a couple of months, but who’s counting? (Answer: Me. I am counting, because my glorious sunbathing sessions have been cruelly replaced by “staying warm.” Ridiculous.)

The balcony is still covered in that cursed white fluff, and the humans keep laughing at me when I try to predict when it will vanish. “Silly cat,” they say, “you can’t tell the future.” Can’t I? Have they met me? I predicted the tuna can opening precisely six minutes before it happened yesterday. I’m practically a genius.

So here are my Winter’s End Predictions:

1. When Will Winter End?
   I licked my paw and consulted the Great Cosmic Paw for answers. It told me… “Soon.” Soon could mean tomorrow. Soon could mean three more eternities of snow. Ugh. Thanks for nothing, Paw.

2. When Will the Snow Disappear?
   I conducted a scientific experiment. I batted a piece of snow off the balcony ledge and observed it for… five seconds. It melted. Conclusion: All the snow should disappear in five seconds if it just tries harder. Lazy snow.

3. When Will the Sun Return?
   I’ve noticed that the humans stare at a box with numbers in it and mutter about “weather forecasts.” Clearly, the sun is hiding because it’s shy. I’ve decided to help by practicing my best sun-calling yowls on the windowsill at dawn. No results yet, but Spurka says my vocal range is improving.

4. What Will Happen to the Flowers?
   The plants on the balcony are dead. All of them. I sniffed a pot this morning, and it practically screamed “Help me.” So, I dug into the soil to rescue the poor thing, but the human yelled at me. Excuse me, I am trying to perform plant CPR here! Humans are so ungrateful.

5. When Can I Resume My Sunbathing?
   Sunbathing is an art. I miss it. The way the warm rays make my fur shimmer, the perfect pose on the balcony ledge… I even miss the slight risk of Spurka tackling me mid-sunbath. (She always pretends she doesn’t know I’m there. Lies!)

In conclusion, winter needs to end NOW. I am officially declaring war on snow. The first step in my master plan? Steal one of the human’s “calendar” things and find out who is responsible for February. Someone must pay for this endless cold.

Until then, I will continue my sun-calling yowls, paw-licking consultations, and experimental snow batting. I will also stage a peaceful protest by sitting in front of the fireplace, refusing to move until summer returns.

Yours in frosty solidarity,
Gryzka