How Cat got his red bowtie
Just because all cats are cats, they are not all the same. Not even remotely. But nevertheless, let me introduce you to a very particular one. Cat Winter is a very friendly cat, and his fur is white as snow. He is also rather small, a bit tiny maybe. His ears lay flat at the sides of his head, so he always looks a bit sad. Itâs not that he doesnât try to smile â in fact he does try all the time, but somehow it always looks a bit sad, too. His small, heart shaped nose stands out a bit as well, itâs a rather uncommon shape after all, you wouldnât see it every day. Cat wears glasses â red-framed, round, rather thick reading glasses. Sometimes they almost slide off his flat nose. But he doesnât mind much. Since Catâs eyebrows somehow seem to start in round dots, they complement the shape of the lenses, rather than making it look odd. All in all, I must say, Cat is the most adorable cat I know off. Despite the common name, his blank white fur is quite rare, white save for the ink smears at the paws, but those spots would wash off. They come from the matter of the fact, that Cat works at the local library, he stamps the cards in the back of the books, organizes all the mountains of paperwork in the back offices and, most importantly, he is the best librarian to ask if you are looking for a book, but arenât quite sure, which one. And yes, by local library I mean the old, washed grey stone one, with the big pillars at the front that make it look more like an ancient temple, than a well heated, public space to sit and read good books for free.
It must have been maybe a week ago, that Iâve met Cat last, on his way to work. He always commutes there from his place nearby, well usually he walks, but on rainy days he likes to take the train. He always says rain gives him such a bad fur day, that heâd rather stay out of it as good as possible. On first sight I hadnât recognized him â only when he spoke up to me, I caught a glance of his red rimmed glasses hidden between a wide-rimmed hat and a thick blue scarf wrapped up till around his nose. His paws here dug deep into the long coatâs pockets, a classic umbrella hanging from his left elbow â he tried awfully hard, not to bother any other pedestrians with it. As expected, he complained a bit about the weather, just like cats on a rainy morning do, when theyâd rather not had to have jobs and rushing into the city for work. We exchanged all the polite stuff, too, that two have to talk about, when they accidentally meet in the first week of a new year. It made me feel rather grown up, although that part was rather dull and phoney. After the formalities, Cat told me about his last day at the library before the Winter Holidays.
Cat had a busy time that day; the reading hall was packed, and everyone was looking for books to read during the just-so two weeks the library would be closed for Winter Holiday and New Yearâs celebrations. With all the commotion going on, it was only by chance that Cat found Morpheus the Goat almost chewing on a new, pricy and picture heavy book on leaf plants. Of course, Cat politely redirected Morpheus to the cooking book section so that he could give some proper leaf courses a try over the holiday.
To his disgruntlement, he then found Kiki the Cat sneaking around on the top galleries in the reading room, which are of course off-limits for visitors. She was fishing for a peculiar, rare fishing handbook, since she would visit her Aunt at the Great Lakes for New Years. Of course, the book was hiding in the basement, where the heaviest books are kept which you canât usually borrow, and upon the weight of the handbook, the black Cat didnât seem too happy with her catch, but she promised to bring it back on the first day, when the library would open again the following year.
A confused croaking led Cat to N. Black, the Raven, who sat beat-scratching on the stairs to the tower, where the poetry was kept. With some on and off and convincing he could be persuaded to decide on a poem collection by Pangar E. Ellado, before he shed even more feathers all over the staircase. Of course, the Raven then forgot to check out the book properly, and the entry clerk Dove had to fly after him, to remind him he did indeed need to get that odd-looking card in the back of the book stamped and his home address noted in the librariesâ papers, just in case he might forget about bringing it back and all.
Meanwhile, a tiny Mouse by the name of Reid was digging through the handbook section, making a bit of a mess. When Cat asked him what he was looking for, he stated an interest in âextended gardeningâ, whatever that meant. Cat looked around a bit, searching for the right book. But when he found something written by a bloke named Binford, Raid seemed to find that Cat was rather insane for even suggesting that particular author. Of course, that only made Cat want to find a good book for Reid even more, so after a bit of digging around on his own, he produced a collective work, thick and knowledgeable-looking, which the Mouse deemed fine enough to spend the holidays with.
Moving on, after resetting the whole handbook section, Cat almost slipped after stepping in a puddle, that suspiciously looked like fresh sea water. Tracing the trail of wet spots, with a mop and bucket in his paws, he found Umi the Seal, who had trouble reaching for the higher shelves in the cartography section. It seemed, like she was looking for an atlas, since she was intending to visit some family quite a bit off coast. Cat found a special, waterproof atlas for her and decided to suggest at the next staff meeting to move the water-resistant collection to a lower shelf since the trouble seemed common. Of course, he then had to help Umi checking out the book, following her around with mop and bucket, without it even remotely being time to mop up the floor yet.
The day seemed long and only getting longer, while the reading hall grew more and more crowded. Cats, in their nature, really dislike these kinds of busy places, with all their noise and happening, so Cat ended up retreating to his office upstairs. He wanted the Winter Holidays to start already, so he could curl up at home, read novels, have milk tea, maybe even set up his shiny samovar and not be bothered by everyone with their book requests anymore. Not that he didnât like these requests, he took quite some pride in always finding the right book. At that very moment it simply seemed a bit unfair to him, that everyone always got good books recommended, and he never did. Close to falling asleep in his armchair, which stood next to the crackling heater, he almost jumped up to the ceiling, when the door suddenly slammed open, and his boss, Eugen the Owl stepped in, quite puffed up. On second look through, Eugen didnât seem upset with him, but rather a bit freezing, so Cat took some book piles off the second armchair and offered it up. The Owl settled in the cosy chair, de-puffing quite a bit to fit in, he adjusted his green bow tie a bit and gave a tired groan. You might imagine it yourself, but owls are neither early birds at the office (and if they have to be, because they are head of the place, they donât like it), nor do they fancy crowded places. Cat and Eugen chatted a bit, without keeping track of time, since Eugen had misplaced his pocket watch. Eventually, they came upon the topic of Catâs popularity for book recommendations, and when Eugen found him sulking slightly on the matter, he offered to pick Cat a book to borrow over the holidays for himself, for a change. Warmed up and in better spirits, they went back downstairs, where at least the crowd seemed to have started to vanish into thin air bit by bit.
Everyone was a bit more tired than usual around closing time, the staff swept the floor of the whole place and the last, closing time-resistant readers, who tried to dodge the cold weather outside, out of the reading hall. For better or worse, they stumbled over a bunch of lost things. Some keys (of Morpheus the Goat â the entry clerk Dove went to deliver them and hence got off early), a pocket watch that wasnât ticking, and a tiny, well wrapped package. After having finally thrown out the last bookworm, they came together at Eugenâs office for a quick meet-up. It turned out that the lost pocket watch they had found belonged to Eugen himself, how had been suspiciously late after misplacing it some days ago. The archivist Mole took out a red string and attached the pocket watch to the Owlâs vest so he wouldnât lose it until next year, just to be sure the library would open again in time. This reminded Eugen of the book recommendation he promised to Cat, and he handed him a handbook on knitting from his personal collection, as well as yarn and needles to try out the whole thing during the holidays. Lastly, the package had been found to be addressed to Cat Winter, whom we know well by now. Cat carefully unwrapped the present and found a red bow tie inside, in the exact same colour as his glasses. A tiny memo, signed with a small pawprint, read Happy Winter Holidays.
And this, my dear reader, is how Cat got his red bow tie, the whole story, as he told me himself. He also asked me, to send you the warmest Holiday Greetings, from the librariesâ staff and all the bookworms there, and on top of that, from me, thereâs a cheerful Happy New Year.
