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With a hard freeze expected, it promised to be a long cold night, what with door and window open…
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In my youth, there was a television program in Britain called That Was The Week That Was, featuring among others David Frost who I later encountered frequently, as he travelled back and forth across the Atlantic.
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What, I wonder, would he have made of this week?
We were reeling from the horror of the election when something occurred of a much more traumatic nature to us personally, which rather altered our focus.
Not recommended as a diversion.
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A day short of five months after his unexpected arrival, two days after the cursed election, Little Man rushed out the front door and vanished.
Grant was letting the walkers out for their morning gamble when the boy suddenly shot past. Previously, he had not appeared interested in even venturing out, never mind taking off like a rocket.
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The cats being out always makes me nervous, though where we are they can’t get into much trouble and the walkers always return after 15 minutes.
Cats know where food and shelter are.
They come back.
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Little Man did not.
We walked the length and breadth of the property, sometimes calling, sometimes not.
Little Man associates being called with being put in a carrier and carted off to the vet.
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It was 8 am when the lad departed and Grant began calling off the hours as we walked and searched, our spirits falling into a pit of darkness.
After sunset, we put on the outside lights and kept watch but there was no sign of our beloved cat.
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All through Thursday we searched and waited. I posted a Lost Pet notice in the local forum, hoping someone would have seen our traveller.
He had bolted through the door and disappeared within a minute flat, as if he had a destination in mind.
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Little Man was a mere two months old when he turned up under our hedge. Would he have gone back to wherever he mysteriously came from? He seemed so happy to be here.
But cats have their own agenda.
Our spirits hit new lows with each passing hour.
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Friday morning brought additional worry when Grant announced that Lily had been sick all night.
We went off to the vet where we related Little Man’s disappearance, although if he was brought in they would have identified him by his chip.
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Lily grumbled about being poked and topped up with fluid but nothing untoward was diagnosed.
Normally we would have waited and monitored before taking her to the vet but well, Friday.
Emergency veterinary clinics are some distance away and the journey means extra stress for a sick animal.
Not to mention frightening fees.
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We returned to our watch and as it grew dark again, Grant placed the trailcam beneath the kitchen window…
48 hours after Little Man disappeared, he was nowhere to be found. The notice had produced no results, so I decided to make up a sign to put up in the post office.
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While trying to create a poster, I came across PawBoost which is an online site that posts missing pet notices across the media. I’ve seen them often on Facebook, so I put all the information in and had just launched it when I heard Grant call:
“He was here!”
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At least a cat had been at around 2 am.
Was it him? In the dark, the image was black and white but we soon decided it was indeed our boy. He had been here and the door had not been open!
Both despair and hope.
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Friday night had been grim. I may write separately about that.
But knowing he was still around, albeit out of sight, we had something to hold on to.
Praying that Little Man would come back again, we spent the day watching and making a plan for what we would do after dark which is when we thought it more likely he would reappear.
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During the day we’d left doors open to the delight of the walkers whose outdoor time is normally rationed.
After dark, we keep them in, so we bundled them into various closed rooms…to their consternation.
Then, it was a matter of monitoring the open door hoping and praying the boy would venture in and that we’d be able to close it before he fled back out.
Grant dismantled the catch on the storm door, wedged it open and attached a long pulley that could be yanked.
Then we installed ourselves to wait as the temperature dropped and the house grew cold. The other cats may have been displeased, but at least they were warm.
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While prepared to do this for as long as it took, realistically it would be difficult, to say the least.
Luckily there was no wind to blow the door closed or make a noise that would frighten a cat away.
Even more fortunate, the skunks and possums decided to dine on the extra offerings of peanuts I’d tossed out.
A visiting possum I could deal with, but I hope never to encounter a skunk indoors.
It would make cat pee smell like perfume.
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It will be obvious merely from the fact I am writing, how this turned out, though we had not expected the return to come by 8 pm. We had been prepared for frost on the furniture.
But the boy had endured one wet night and he was probably beginning to feel a bit hungry.
Grant’s rigged door worked perfectly. Little Man was suddenly hovering, just outside and for ten long minutes we could barely breathe while he got up the courage to come in.
Then he did.
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The lad jumped up on the window seat looking a little cowed, so I went and sat nearby talking gently and when I rose to pick him up he came happily into my arms for a big cuddle, rubbing his face against mine.
Then he clambered up to sit on my right shoulder.
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From the beginning I thought Little Man had come to give us a message of some sort. I can think of several now.
For one: however bad things are, they can always get worse.
After the election I’d misguidedly thought I could hardly feel more despondent!
But then there’s this:
However bad things seem, there is always hope.
Oh my! First tears of sadness, and then tears of joy!
I was praying, while reading this post.
What a story, but with a happy ending!
I love how Grant rigged the door!
So grateful that you have Little Man back inside. ❤️
Catherine
Oh, such a relief at the ending of your story. I missed your post yesterday and had a feeling that something was wrong. I hope Little Man will remember how uncomfortable he was in being without food for those days and nights and will never do that again.
A nerve wracking tale, but a happy ending, complete with words of wisdom to cling to in dark times! What a very happy outcome to a rough week!
Phew! What a story! what on earth was that little chap thinking? Whatever it was, I am glad he came to his senses. Daft as a brush, cats.
I think you may have to rename him Silly Billy. I’m so glad that you have a positive outcome after all the worry this must have caused. Perhaps he went off to plan a Coup D’ecat after hearing of the election result!
Ha! Yes. Could be!
Just catching up on posts and I started to read this thinking ‘Oh No!’ Pleased with the outcome, but his wanderlust may return, as you know all too well.
Best wishes, Pete.
Well those eyes are definitely saying something…
It’s the most beautiful story I’ve read in a long time Carolyn! With a happy ending, of course, but I was very worried for a few minutes. I’m sure you’re over the moon with joy (including the rest of the cats who were locked up inside the house for a while – I hope they don’t give Little Man a hard time because of this). And you taught us a very valuable lesson at the end of your post – thank you very much for that.