Tabs sat motionless in the shed, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness as the ringing in his ears from the once noisy generator subsided.
Soon, thanks to the sparse moonlight coming in through the one tiny window in the room, he could clearly make out shapes — the chair, his Louis Vuitton luggage and Chanel overnight bag, the generator, electric heater, the hole in the ice and the small wooden workman’s desk — and then details, like the lovely Chanel double C logo, the elegant Louis Vuitton pattern and a familiar-looking tool on top of the desk…
Can opener, he thought. That’s what his assistant called them. He never figured out how to make it work, but he knew that it could produce gravy. His assistant did it all the time.
Knowing it was here, he felt a tinge of relief. Maybe he could figure out how to use it if he had to. If his assistant could use it, it couldn’t be that hard.
Carefully, he walked over to the edge of the hole in the ice and peered down. Water gently lapped against the sides, but its depths were impenetrable, even to his efficient kitty eyes.
“Meow!” he called. Siri! Then he made his way around to the other side of the hole and tried again, louder this time. “Meow!!” Siri!!
No answer… Was she ignoring him, or somehow unable to reply?
“Mrf!” he huffed. Probably the former. These days, it’s just so hard to find good help.
It occurred to Tabs that he wouldn’t be in this situation had his assistant back at the office done her job. She was in charge of travel arrangements, after all, so this was entirely her fault.
“Mmrrrwww…” he grumbled. He was going to give her an earful when he got —
Tabs whipped around and focussed his senses intensely on the door. He heard something outside, something shuffling on the ice. His ears rotated on his head like tiny radar dishes trying to triangulate the source of the sound.
There! He heard it again. Something skilled in the art of espionage. It was close. Right behind the door, and it was big. Tabs could tell. Much bigger than a cat.
Then, the smell. Instinctively, Tabs arched his back to appear larger, triggered his claws and hissed loudly at the door.
If you enjoyed this little tale and would like to see Tabs continue the story, let him know in the comments. And now, here are some pics from Tabs’ ever-growing kitty modeling portfolio.
Who is Tabs the Cat? About five years ago I befriended a stray, flea-bitten tabby cat with a bad case of worms. I could see he’d fallen on hard times, but his profound knowledge of high fashion and department store cosmetics led me to believe that he was more than meets the eye. We became fast friends, and now he’s actually my boss (and a successful kitty model).
Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,
P.S. To see what else acclaimed kitty supermodel Tabs the Cat has been up to over the years, check out Sundays With Tabs, the Archives: From Anastasia to Zoya.