Hey, it's me...
A generally quite week that ended on a much too exciting note.
Most of the week was kind of up and down. I had trouble sleeping, so I was either overtried or so well rested (having really solidly slept to make up for a night of not sleeping) that I overdid it. But I got a lot of painting done.
However, the way-too-much-excitement came Friday. Friday morning, J asks me if I've seen her cat anywhere. I hadn't. She usually sleeps with J at night and then checks on me in the morning before checking on the ritual morning filling for her food dish. She did none of those things and J was getting worried.
We discussed the last time we'd seen her, the night before, and agreed that it was extremely unlikely she had gotten outside. (No one went outside after we'd seen her and she's afraid of Outside anyway... unlike Hippy, she wouldn't dash out an opened door.) I figured she was just hold up in a cozy spot and would come out when she was ready. I was wrong.
J and D left for work, after D suggesting that the cat might have gotten closed in the garage, since that door had been open. It wasn't Outside, so it was possible. I still figured she would come out when she was ready. I told them I would text when I saw her.
Two hours later, I hadn't seen her and now I was worried. D started texting me, asking for updates and sharing dread theories that the cat had somehow injured herself and was hiding in some secret spot, waiting to die. By this point, I was already worried. Worse, Hippy was clearly also worried... wandering around and meowing as if calling out to her missing roommate.
So, I started searching. I checked all the closets. I checked all the little hiding places I knew the cat had used in the past. I checked under all the beds. By the time I was checking downstairs, Hippy was with me and actually helped me search. I'm serious. That big cat searched under D's bed and in the closets and hiding places she knew downstairs. I even checked the garage, but it's filled with piles of boxes and other things and I could only move the first layer. Eventually, worn out, I went back upstairs and rested.
Then, an hour or so later and having caught my breath I searched again. Then, an hour or so after that, I searched again. Repeat until D, having finished work and unable to sit still dragged his mother out of her office.
By this point, I was fairly confident I had eliminated all but three spots. She was either in the garage, inside the couch (it has a rip in it and it's not impossible the little idiot could have gotten inside) or, against all reason, she'd gotten outside.
Unwilling to started by ripping up our couch, J and D started in the garage.
They found her in the furthest corner, clinging in terror to some camping equipment. Once brought back "inside" the little idiot, covered in dust, came trotting into my room as if to say "you won't believe what happened to me." She then trotted around, making sure the house was where she'd left it and then curled up in my lap and went to sleep.
I figure I'll be sore of a while after, but the cat's fine. (touch wood)
Too much excitement. Ah, well...
Onward
