The Wrong Cat
So, two posts in a day — why not three?
At around 8pm tonight I distinctly heard meowing, and, barely able to contain myself, I ran out the back door to find [dramatic pause] my neighbor's cat Henry sitting in the hallway, crying because he'd been locked out.
I have no idea how it happened, or how he got into the vestibule, but there he is, and there he's stayed for the last three hours or so.
I knocked on Anna's door, but she didn't answer, and all the lights were out. I don't know if she'd gone to bed early, or went out somewhere, in the process of doing so accidentally letting Henry out the door.
Anyway, I'm embarrassed to say that, all sympathy for poor Henry notwithstanding, the first thing that popped into my head was, "Aw, Christ. Now with this cat crying too, I'm never going to know if Ivan comes back."
It turns out that the auditory aspect of things wasn't so important. At around 10:30, I decided it was a good time for a walk around the building to see if I could see Ivan anywhere. I've done this about 9 times today, but if I don't, I feel like I'm not trying hard enough. Part of this was on Blue's behalf as well, because he'd come find me about once an hour crying because he's lonely. At any rate, I walked out back. I looked for him. I called for him. Nothing.
Deciding that the exercise never hurts anyway, and feeling like I hadn't done quite a good enough job yet, I embarked on a lap around the building.
Who should be sitting on the front porch, as if nothing was amiss at all, but Ivan the cat.
He wasn't excited, or lonely, or happy, or sad, or anything. He gave me an expression like, "Hey man, how ya been?"
I brought him inside, and after a snack and a brief conversation [read butt sniffing session] with Blue, he's now asleep on my bedroom floor, utterly exhausted.
I asked him where all he's been, as if he could tell me.
At least that's over with. The thought of leaving town having no idea what happened to him was killing me. . . .
At around 8pm tonight I distinctly heard meowing, and, barely able to contain myself, I ran out the back door to find [dramatic pause] my neighbor's cat Henry sitting in the hallway, crying because he'd been locked out.
I have no idea how it happened, or how he got into the vestibule, but there he is, and there he's stayed for the last three hours or so.
I knocked on Anna's door, but she didn't answer, and all the lights were out. I don't know if she'd gone to bed early, or went out somewhere, in the process of doing so accidentally letting Henry out the door.
Anyway, I'm embarrassed to say that, all sympathy for poor Henry notwithstanding, the first thing that popped into my head was, "Aw, Christ. Now with this cat crying too, I'm never going to know if Ivan comes back."
It turns out that the auditory aspect of things wasn't so important. At around 10:30, I decided it was a good time for a walk around the building to see if I could see Ivan anywhere. I've done this about 9 times today, but if I don't, I feel like I'm not trying hard enough. Part of this was on Blue's behalf as well, because he'd come find me about once an hour crying because he's lonely. At any rate, I walked out back. I looked for him. I called for him. Nothing.
Deciding that the exercise never hurts anyway, and feeling like I hadn't done quite a good enough job yet, I embarked on a lap around the building.
Who should be sitting on the front porch, as if nothing was amiss at all, but Ivan the cat.
He wasn't excited, or lonely, or happy, or sad, or anything. He gave me an expression like, "Hey man, how ya been?"
I brought him inside, and after a snack and a brief conversation [read butt sniffing session] with Blue, he's now asleep on my bedroom floor, utterly exhausted.
I asked him where all he's been, as if he could tell me.
At least that's over with. The thought of leaving town having no idea what happened to him was killing me. . . .