My ex in-laws had bought an old farmhouse. After a year of renovations they held a housewarming, and off to the country side I went. When I got there, they showed me a whole box of kittens. Each one named after a Winnie the Pooh character. Did I want one? Absolutely NOT! Four cats was enough. Somehow, between the wine with dinner and the brandy by the fire, I found myself with Pooh. A long haired tiger with big blue eyes and white feet and belly. He was an absolute doll. Indeed, he had the gentlest nature and greatest tolerance of all the cats. Being put in doll clothes and being pushed in a stroller, was his idea of a good day! Being the baby of the family, everything was done for him and he grew into a very weighty cat. His idea of catching a bird was to lie under the feeder and hope one would fall off from over eating. To say he was lazy would be an understatement. But his sweet nature made him loved by all.

Now, Pooh possessed one of the thickest winter coats of fur you ever did see. He loved the snow and being outdoors. When it came to winter, it was he and momma Sprite who were outdoors the most often. But, when darkness started to settle each night, they both wanted their warm beds with their favorite people. It was therefore a shock, when Pooh failed to come home one night. I just knew his curious nature had gotten him locked in someone's garage for a frosty night of captivity. I told myself that this would teach him a lesson, but like a mother hen, I worried the long night away. In the morning, he did not return. Donning boots and cold weather gear I combed the neighborhood. No cat! And a second night descended without Pooh. By the third day, I was ready to call out the National Guard. I had been to our local shelter. I had talked to everyone in the neighborhood. His picture was all snow spotted! No one had seen him. He had been without food or warmth for 3 days! And, slowly, the ugly realization crept into my mind that Pooh might be gone forever. There was nothing more to do, but wait. My laundry room was in the basement, and it was with a heavy heart that I trudged down those stairs, determined to keep busy. I do not know what drew my eyes to the snow-filled window well. And. there he was! Buried in snow and most certainly wet; and totally alive!!! I got him inside the cellar and rubbed him down with a warm towel from the dryer. His purrs were music to my ears. It took him three days to eat his fill, be the star, and tell everyone who would listen, his harrowing tale.