November 21 – Both Dale and I have written about our fat Cat and her enjoyable times as she scampers through the grass along the trails as she follows us. A habit that she has acquired lately is one of mewing, very plaintively, to go out. If we don’t comply with her request within a few seconds, she moves closer to us, raises her head so we can see what’s written in her eyes, and mews once more. Did I say “once more?” No, not once, but many times as she moves from my side as I continue typing at the computer. If I don’t jump right up to let her out, she quickly moves to beg Dale, no matter what he’s doing, to open the door. She wants to go out!
Unfortunately, she wants to come back in after a minute or maybe two. She just can’t make up her mind. Usually, her last time out is about ten at night, but sometimes while we are playing our last couple games of Rummikub before going off to bed, she continues to beg, with the plaintive tone turning in to a demand!
And that’s what happened a couple nights ago. Dale gave her one final no, before she disappeared, probably under the bed, Dale thought. She didn’t even play her usual game with him, hiding under the rug by the bed, or letting him toss the rug over her. She didn’t come to have her last pat on the head as I said, “Good, Kitty. You really are a good kitty!”
Now usually first thing every morning, I find her lying on the rug outside the bathroom, just waiting to be petted. That’s also the time I call her into the bathroom calling, “Oh, nice. Nice, nice, oh nice,” and pat on the air vent as it sends out warm, soothing air. She just about flips when this happens, as it is one of her favorite pastimes. Not content to just stand in front of the vent, she walks in front of it, then throws her body down on the floor. All scrunched together, she throws out her legs and feet in exactly the warmest section, while her head and upper body are fully relaxed, as she purrs softly, then more loudly as the heat envelops her.
But where was she this morning? Not in her usual place on the throw rug just outside our bedroom. Not waiting to throw herself down in front of the air vent in the bathroom. Not beside our bed on the throw rug. So strange was this that I began to look for her while calling, “Here, Kit, here Kit,” as I walked all through the house, even going down the stairs to the basement, thinking she might be down there looking for a mouse to play with. (I mentioned before that she doesn’t eat mice; those animals are just to toss around in the air before Dale takes them away from Cat and throws them into the garbage outside).
Then I checked under a couple dressers where she often lies quietly, just about asleep. No sign of Cat. What about under the beds? No sign of Cat. Under the microwave stand? No. Did she sneak into any of the closets? No. By this time, I had asked Dale to help find her, but he was no more successful than I.
As we ate breakfast, we pondered just where she might be. No idea because she had never before in her well-over-a-year with us, disappeared like that. (stay tuned, more tomorrow!) – CHRIS