Shapeshift

I leapt nimbly like a deer
through January's frozen drear
to find that February's here,
but you're not.

So I hibernate like a wounded bear;
don't wash or eat until I scare
my friends.  They say I shouldn't care -
you weren't THAT hot.

Come March, I finally stretch, yawn;
and wake with aching hands and gums.
My claws are back and my teeth have come,
strong and sharp.

I'm a big, bad cat, and April's cruel.
What you did to me, I hear she did to you.
I've eight lives left, and, now, you're the fool
with the shredded heart.

For Marian's prompt at Real Toads