Having three cats makes me borderline crazy cat lady. I completely recognize that. It’s hard to admit sometimes, particularly to men, that three purring beings live in my home. But there’s a pet heartbeat for each of us, so that makes it acceptable.
Except we are missing one of those heartbeats right now. And that’s anything but okay. Fluffy has been gone about 36 hours now, if I’m calculating correctly how and when she slipped out the door without my noticing. Of course, because I have three cats, I didn’t detect her escape right away. It was 3:30am yesterday when I realized the warm blob in her usual spot in the middle of my bed was her sister, Fang. By 5:30am when I woke not to the pesky Fluffy begging to be fed, I sensed something was horribly amiss.
(I know that by sharing that last paragraph I do indeed solidify myself as a crazy cat lady. But why does no one call people who let dogs, big dogs even, sleep in their beds crazy dog people? Dogs drool, shed more, and have the potential to take up a significant portion of bed space. And they don’t purr. But I digress.)
I went outside with a bag of cat food and for nearly two hours called her name. I sent a message on my neighborhood listserve. But time was ticking so I went to work and steeled myself for the conversation I knew I’d have to have with my boys.
I left the office early to beat them home, armed with Fluffy’s favorite wet food, “lost kitty” signs to blanket the block with, and a confidence that she’d come back by dinner.
After teary kids went to sleep, I walked the perimeter of my heavily treed yard and my neighbor’s bamboo wonderland, flashlight in hand. In one heart-stopping moment, I heard a literal cat fight. Or maybe it was a cat something else. They can make some noise. Noises I’ve never heard from a cat. Not sounds I ever want to hear again. I broke it, up but neither feline was my Fluffy.
At 11:30pm, I threw in the towel. I set out some open cans of food hoping the scent would draw her home. Not even five minutes later, I looked out my kitchen window to see a fox eating the food. Hopefully he’s nice and full now.
None of us slept. Jack even climbed in bed with me briefly, something he never does. Colin – my cat whisperer – called out to Fluffy in his sleep, and woke up twice to ask if she’d come home. So I got up for good at have been outside since 5:00am, her favorite hour to eat, because we have to find her.
I have to find her.