Snow

Snow. It was snowing outside.

But Renato was used to the snow. If you are the personal chauffeur of the biggest mob boss in Tundratown you need to get acquainted with this icy substance quite fast.

But now he wasn't in Tundratown. He was in his home, in the Rainforest district.
A perturbation of this magnitude, able to surpass all the climate engineering and the mountains of Zootopia, was quite an unique event.

The jaguar slowly tasted the whisky inside the tumbler in his paw.
It has been a long day. First he had to drive in all this snow for half of Tundratown, then he had to pass through Downtown to go home, since the mountain passes were all blocked because of the blizzard. He saw the riots in Pack Street, mammals clawing at each other for a bit of warmth. And in the Rainforest district it was no better. The mammals here were used to an hot, humid climate, so they had all to run to the stores to buy something that will heat their home.
Luckily he didn't have these problems. A portable heater was an essential equipment for every respectable chauffeur that drives frequently through the icy wastes of the city.
And there he was, sitting comfortably in his chair, a book in his paws, a glass of whisky on the rocks near.
He smiled.
So strange.
Outside was below freezing and he was here, in his undershirt, drinking something with ice in it.
He looked at the window. The world outside was a strange mixture of green and grey and white, the snow falling on trees that have never seen temperature like this before in their long life.
But who cared about the world outside?
He was there, him, the book, the whisky, the television switched on to keep him company.
Almost out of reflex he tightened his grip on the glass, the claws showing just a little.
Company.
He knew that being an underling of such a big name in the crime and business worlds had his perks. He knew of many pubs were girls of every species will get in line to be with him, just for his connections. And he certainly was a good looking feline.
He had many frenzied nights: a couple of tigers, a snow leopard (was she the one from the news? he will never know), that triplet of arctic foxes...
Damn, those vixens. Certainly one of the most intense nights of his life.
But they were just that, nights. The morning after, everything was gone, the only lasting reminder a vicious headache from the alcohol he consumed.
He closed the book and emptied the glass, putting the empty container on a nearby table.
Manchas slowly stood up and approached the window, the calm demeanour of his person betrayed by the nervous flicks of his tail.
He looked at the world outside: the traffic was getting worse by the hour, the snow slowly accumulating at the borders of the roads. In an apartment near his kids were playing with the snow, probably the first they have seen in their life. Kits...
An horrible sound of crushed branches took his attention: another bridge had collapsed under a weight he was not built to sustain. So much snow was dangerous. Buildings and trees here were not made for this icy precipitation. Just half an hour ago, three big branches fell under the weight of the white substance, taking a couple of bridges with them.
He had to clean the bridge in front of his home. What if it collapsed when he was walking over it? He pondered for a too long moment over it. Yea, what if...?
He shook his head. No.
The jaguar rapidly dressed himself. He put on the hat and took the broom, hastily moving toward the exit. He should have done this before...
He stopped.
A deep breath.
He should have done many, many things.
The feline moved in the surreal, snowy environment, the door slowly closing behind him.