Under the Weather

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Storm Swenson climbed the steps of the slightly ramshackle Victorian house and rang the doorbell. After waiting for another few moments, he rang the bell again. 

The sign on the front gate said “Hedge Witch in Residence,” so he knew he had the right house, but perhaps she wasn’t at home. He was about to clomp back down the steps when the deep purple front door swung open. 

“Can I help you?” Storm turned back around to face the witch. She pushed a cloud of red curls out of her face and looked down at the cat carrier Storm was clutching. “I’m Zelda,” she said. “And who do we have here?” She bent down to peer into the carrier that started to vibrate with a loud rumble of purring. 

“He’s why I’m here,” Storm said with feeling. “It’s a long story, but my cat, Misty—not this one—broke out of her carrier when we moved here. She ran off in a panic and I haven’t been able to find her since. I’ve been leaving an open can of her favorite cat food outside the front door each night in a Have-Heart trap, but instead of catching Misty I caught this guy.”

Zelda crossed her arms and leaned against the door jam. “So you need me to help you find your cat?”

“No. Well, yes.” Storm scrubbed a hand across his face. “First I need your help to fix this one,” he indicated the carrier thar was still emitting deep purrs. “You see, I’m a weatherman on channel 6, so I recognized this cat was a weather cat right away. I thought maybe, while I kept trying to find Misty, he could help me with my work.” 

“Uh huh. So what’s the problem then?” Zelda cocked a questioning eyebrow. 

“The problem is Misty predicted the weather by making various patterns of turns in her litter box. But this guy, he doesn’t predict the weather. He unleashes it somehow.” 

Storm’s raincloud gray eyes met Zelda’s calm green eyed gaze with a pleading look. “He created a mini-monsoon on the East side of the city last night. Six cars were swept into the river. This morning, it was a freak blizzard on sixteenth street. They’re still digging out, traffic’s at a stand-still. If things go on like this, the city will be in ruins and I’ll be out of a job.”

“I see how that could be a problem,” Zelda said dryly. “Lucky for you, I have the solution. Please, come in.” Zelda stood aside and motioned for Storm to enter. Once inside, Storm followed her down a narrow hallway paneled in dark wood before emerging into a sunny old-fashioned kitchen at the back of the house.

Plants and herbs in flower pots were on every windowsill, and a half-finished potion made of dried leaves, flower petals and moon-charged crystals sat on the porcelain drainboard by the sink. A large and ornate cast iron cookstove squatted on it’s haunches at the back of the room. In front of it was a wicker laundry basket containing a fluffy gray and white mother cat nursing three tiny brown tabby kittens.

Storm put down the cat carrier and took a cautious step or two towards the basket. He turned back to look at Zelda with surprise written across his face. “You have my cat?” He said incredulously. 

“I do,” Zelda stated simply. “And it would seem you have mine.” She directed a pointed look at the cat carrier. “His name is Little Louie, he’s my familiar. He is a weather cat, you were right about that. But he doesn’t predict weather. He dreams it.” She bent and released the lock on the carrier. Little Louie sauntered out and wandered over to the basket, where he touched noses with Misty.

Storm looked from Louie to Misty to the kittens and back again, perplexed, before looking back at Zelda. “Oh.” He said, his eyes widening as recognition dawned. Zelda smiled, a twinkle of amusement in her eye. 

“My forecast never predicted a weather system quite like this,” Storm said, as one of the kittens flicked its stubby tail, sparking a pop of static electricity into a tiny lightening bolt.

“I think I’m going to need a lot more magical advice to raise this many weather cats.” His gaze met Zelda’s again, his previous expression of panic replaced with something warmer. “Over dinner, maybe?”

Zelda felt warmth rise into her cheeks.“The vegan cafe on the corner has its own ecosystem, courtesy of Little Louie and myself. Why don’t we start there? There’s a lot to learn about weather cats, though, so we might need multiple sessions. I hope that won’t be a problem?”

Storm took one last look at the little feline family. “No problem at all. The forecast is looking very good on that front.”