Tabs ran full bore toward the frozen edge of the rocky shore, pumping his tiny tabby legs on the ice like his life depended on it, half skating and out of control, but at least he was skating in the right direction, he thought.
“Meow!” Atta boy! the gray cat growled. It’s voice sounded like sandpaper on the wind. “Mrroww!” Watch out fer dem rocks! The cat gestured frantically at an area to the left of Tabs from where sharp rocks jutted out of the ice like spears. “Mrrreww.” They’ll tear ya apart quicker den dem wolves.
Tabs slowed to an unsteady trot to navigate around the rocks, slipping and sliding every few steps, but he managed to do it. As Tabs covered the last few feet to where the frozen lake met the rocky shore, he was finally able to get a good look at the gray cat. It was bigger and scragglier than any house cat Tabs had ever seen. It looked like a big dog with matted, stiff fur, only it had the face of a cat and friendly feline eyes.
Panting and wobbly, but completely aware of how close the werewolves must be, Tabs dashed up to the gray cat, not wanting to stop. “Mrow!” he managed to say, gasping for air. Thanks!
“Meew!” the gray cat replied. Don’t mention it. Both of them were running together now, side by side along the rocky beach, Tabs following the gray cat’s lead. They were moving steadily up the beach toward what looked like a dirt road at the tree line.
“Mrraow,” the gray cat said. No time for pleasantries, I’m afraid. “Meow, mrow rrow.” That road up there leads to a ranger’s station ’bout a quarter mile in. “Mrow.” Couple o’ cabins, some tall trees, plenty of places to hide.
“Meow?” You alright? the gray cat asked, looking Tabs up and down. “Mrrow.” Watched you take a nasty tumble back there on the ice. How’s yer noggin’?
Tabs was shocked for a moment by the gray cat’s concern but felt it was genuine. Years of globetrotting and kitty modeling had turned Tabs into a pretty good judge of character, and he felt that he could trust this cat.
“Meow,” Tabs replied. It’s fine. My assistant says I’m hard headed. The gray cat nodded once, signifying that he understood.
While they were still running, it was much easier to run on solid ground than the ice, and Tabs was starting to catch his breath. In the moonlight, Tabs saw that scars covered the gray cat’s grizzled features, and chips were missing from both of his ears. Tabs couldn’t tell how old the cat was, but he was clearly Tabs’ senior.
Tabs heard something from back toward the frozen shore, like falling rocks.
“Meew!” the gray cat hissed, looking over his shoulder but not slowing a step. Blast it! “Mraw!” Better pick up the pace!
To follow our story from the beginning…
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 Tabsâ€™ every-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.