We had a close call just as it got dark last night. The door to the outside swung open and the kitten went missing.
It was full-on freak-out conditions.
The kids were crying, I was screaming orders at the top of my lungs while desperately trying to find a working flashlight and it was sheer chaos.
Itchy and I ran around the block calling for Peachy while Scratchy stayed home to search for him inside. All I could think about was how I was going to break the news to Peach’s owner.
“Merry Christmas! I lost your cat.”
Picture this: a 3 month-old kitten with no collar or microchip, new to the house, never been outside, it’s dark, I’m screwed.
My kids are so upset, I’m upset, the owner is going to be upset and once again, I have ruined Christmas.
Loony came home right as I posted to Craigslist and the Humane Society’s websites and was just about to make a flier.
“I found him. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor.”
Cats are such assholes.
Now that I don’t have to worry about finding an identical kitten to foist off onto Dash (the owner) I am pondering if he is actually going to come back for him.
What do you think?
Is it me or does he seem a little ambivalent about getting his kitten?
He should be, that cat is way happier with me and he is getting to know the ropes around here.
He is bossing TFC around and doesn’t seem to be scared of Blue. Not too scared, at least.
Now Scratchy is sick. Last night he complained of an upset stomach and quickly escalated into projectile vomiting for the next 12 hours.
He’s feeling better now but so much for our Christmas Eve plans to go over to Jason and Emily’s. So it goes.
Dinner tonight will be ginger ale and dry toast followed by The Hobbit.