My cat has disappeared. I’ve looked everywhere from the basement to the attic, checking all the places she might have gotten trapped, the cabinets, the laundry bag, even the clothes dryer. She’s an indoor cat. The only time she goes outside is when she escapes, and even then, it’s brief, until we can find her. I usually let her smell my herb garden and chomp on some of parsley leaves before I carry her back inside and put her on lockdown.
I should have suspected something last night when she didn’t take her customary place in the bay window behind the headboard of our bed. She likes to sleep there or on my side of the bed, lying on her side in front of me, her head on her arm, just as I have mine. By morning, she’s usually up before we are, stomping around our bedroom making a menace of herself, knocking my eyeglasses on the floor or walking across the top of the clock radio, shutting off the alarm or turning on the music as she steps across the buttons with her paws.
But I realize now I didn’t see her this morning, either. I didn’t even notice because I was pre-occupied with going to get my pregnancy test. Now, I’ve returned from the lab, and she’s nowhere to be found.
I’m concerned because I remember being awakened at about 2.30 a.m. by a noise out our bedroom window. It sounded like someone walking across rocks. I could hear them clicking against each other from the weight. But when I got up to look outside, I saw nothing. I did hear a rustling in the corner of the yard, but I assumed it was one or two of the raccoons that have been terrorizing our town of late. A young boy on the other side of town was attacked last week. He now calls himself Raccoon Man and shows everyone his scars as he recounts the day of the attack. Our neighbor said she’d heard the raccoons fighting the other night, and that’s what I figured the rustling was last night, but now I fear it was my cat being chased away, or worse, being ripped to shreds by a vicious raccoon.
Every 15 minutes, when I get up to do something like go to the bathroom, answer the phone, get something to eat, I do a lap around the house, checking in corners, searching in spots I’ve already looked two and three times, until I return to our back patio door. I then go out on the deck, call the cat’s name four or five times, peak around the yard, and then go back in the house, making sure to leave the door open so that if she finds her way home, she can walk right back in. I just hope she shows up by dinner. I can’t bear to lose a cat and a pregnancy in one day.