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This day got off to a BAD start!
Before I finish writing here, I hope it will have improved. The alternative is that it will have crashed and burned.
It is bizarre, but let me explain…
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As usual the downstairs gang came clattering upstairs around 7 am and finding me at my desk, Grant carried Dee Dee over to say good morning.
Little Man was at his heels and flopped on the floor.
It took me a minute to finish up by which time the boy had disappeared. As in nowhere to be found.
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When Little Man first moved in and was still settling, he used to take himself off to some obscure corner where he would stay until hunger pangs drew him back out.
He pulled this trick when we had an appointment for him to see the vet. We never did figure out where he got to.
Since those early days however, our lad stopped going off to hide preferring, or so it seemed, to be part of all activity.
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But this morning, having come upstairs as usual, the boy did not show up for breakfast. So we called. And we searched.
And called. And searched….
The more we look, the more he is nowhere to be found.
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There is no reason why Little Man would take himself off before getting his breakfast, or why he would not come running as he always does these days.
He did not get out because no doors were open.
So where is he? When turned up under a hedge, he seemed to have materialised out of thin air, so has he now vaporized? Transported elsewhere?
.
Such thoughts are absurd, but as time goes on you get anxious. What if he is in distress somewhere?
What if he’s gone for good?
Common sense is why I am forcing myself to carry on as if this was a normal day, sayng that Little Man will pop up in due course.
When he does he’ll get his ears boxed.
And a huge hug.
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So, I sat down to make some calls, which did not improve the way Friday is shaping up.
Next Friday, (the 13th, as it happens) I am scheduled for surgery. Because of my age I was obliged to have a pre-op examination by my primary care physician.
After numerous bad experiences, I have been delighted by my current health centre, but they have one serious short-coming.
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For undiscovered reasons, they are unable to communicate. Information does not get dispatched, not even after reminder phone calls.
Knowing this, I booked my appointment a month ahead to allow plenty of time, then emailed my contact at the surgeon’s office. There was no response, presumably because that person, the booking person, is no longer interested.
Fair enough. On Tuesday I spoke to the person who is next in line to handle me.
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Nope. They had not received the report.
Calling the health centre I was assured they would fax it. That was Tuesday afternoon. As of this morning…you guessed it.
Nothing received.
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In the meantime, another set of handlers attempted to reach me to get me pre-registered for the surgery, but because they have a whole other phone number, the call went to voicemail and needless to say, I have been unable to reach them.
Messages left do not get returned.
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“That’s awful, but where are my nuts?”
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“Thanks!”
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Before I weaned myself off anti-anxiety medication, this sort of thing would have got me wound up, which in itself doesn’t make sense. There’s a whole story there, I think.
Off lorazepam, I am merely annoyed.
Next week’s surgery is a second attempt to deal with a troublesome tonsil and no doubt it will all be fine.
.
Next I was going to write that nothing would matter at all, as long as Little Man turned up.
Then I heard the magic words:
“Found him!”
We’d gone for a drive, hoping that while the house was quiet he would venture out and be waiting when we got back, but when that didn’t happen we got seriously concerned.
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Having looked everywhere three of more times, we had to conclude that somehow he had got out.
If he had, would he really run away? He seemed to quite like it here and we do offer free grub, if nothing else.
One or more of the girls might have insulted him but it’s doubtful he’d move out over it.
The other day I mentioned the abundance of stuff downstairs. In fact we have another whole roomful, upstairs.
Last winter we’d closed off a spare bedroom to preserve heat and since we weren’t using it, it turned into a repository for superfluous furniture and boxes and more stuff.
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We also keep supplies of cat food in the cupboard and Grant had gone back there this morning to get a case.
That was the first place we had checked. If the boy got shut in, he’d surely shoot right out. But he didn’t.
A bit later I went for a more thorough look, checking under an armchair and moving a suitcase, rattling things about. No cat.
Checked the cupboard…ditto.
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This afternoon Grant went for yet another look in the box room and as he was about to give up, the beam from his flashlight fell on something pale grey in a corner under the other chair, the one I had not looked under.
Why the boy had taken refuge and kept quiet when we hunted for him, we have no idea. Maybe he thought he’d got locked in as a punishment. Unlikely.
Cats and punishment? Nah.
We will never know. It doesn’t matter.
He’s not lost.
Hallelujah! Why do they do this to us?
Thank you, Carolyn, for the happy ending to the drama of Little Man lost! He has a complex personality as he is a Star! All well what ends well, let’s hope the same result will be next Friday as far as your surgery is concerned!
Joanna
I am so glad that this “Little Man” story has a happy ending!
Maybe he thought it was time for another “vet visit”? 😊
I am feeding next door’s cat while they are down in London for a few days. They told me not to worry if Alfie was not around, as during the summer he often stays outside. But when I didn’t see him yesterday, of course I was worried. I didn’t want him to disappear on my watch and feel guilty for the rest of my life. When I went in to feed him this morning, he wandered out of the living room still warm from his bed, asking for strokes and cuddles before eating his food. I was naturally relieved. They are back on Sunday evening, so I have two more feeds to go. As you can imagine, my fingers are crossed!
Good luck with the tonsils, I will be away from next Tuesday, offline for a week,
Best wishes, Pete.
Having a pet die “on your watch” would be traumatic!
Yes, and I have to feed him for 2 weeks while they on on Safari later this month!
Best wishes, Pete.
Me think Little Man is going to have to wear a small tracking collar! Maybe he was just having enough of all the girls “fluffing” around him and he needed a little “man time”! Friday is the 13th? I think it would be a good day not to get any operation … but then, who knows … it’s just another day and another date … right? I’m sure you’ll be fine!
I am a bit superstitious, but not about Friday 13th. If it was the 15h, perhaps? Why, I’ve no idea. Maybe it’s the whole “ides of March” thing! My only problem is getting the paperwork transmitted/received. “We sent it!” “We haven’t got it!” And I can’t get anyone on the phone. Grrr!
Oh, that sounds like a real nightmare! I hate doing bookings/appointments over the phone – I’d actually like to do this type of stuff face to face! Good luck!