My gratitude peaked exceptionally high this morning, at 8:25.
You see, overnight I was anxious and worried. Both Hubbie and I were.
Because we had let our cat Mister F out of the house after dinner last night… something we never really do, because as we like to joke, he meets up with his cat friends and sees his girlfriend and goes to the cat club, and then WON’T COME HOME.
The way we get him back is by shaking his special packet of cat treats. These things he would fly through the air for. It’s a little trick we use for when we need him inside, quickly, and don’t know where he is.
But last night, he didn’t respond to the treat-bag-shake.
For maybe 90 minutes, we repeatedly went to different doors, shook the bag, and called him. But nothing. It got dark. Our calls got quieter, not wanting to upset the neighbours with our cat calls.
Still the treat bag shook.
When Hubbie went to bed, we had to make the choice… Mister F was still not there, but our bird Orange-cheeks was outside. If we allowed both of them to stay out, Mister F would surely arrive at some stage and try to jump on Orange-cheek’s cage.
We didn’t want a bird-blood-bath to tend to in the morning… so Hubbie brought Orange-cheeks in.
Lowered the blinds.
Turned off the lights.
But even though everyone else went to sleep, including our bird in the other room, I couldn’t help but check a few more times if Mister F was sitting outside the laundry, waiting to be let in.
But still, nothing. I went to bed worried, thinking how he had never slept outside before.
In the morning, an ambulance woke me early as it passed the street… and then that was it.
My mind was turning. I could not sleep anymore.
I was preparing for the worst, imagining horrible scenarios.
Who would I call first? Surely the shelter where we had gotten Mister F from… what if someone had handed him in? He had been found on the street, possibly injured?
Which photo would I post of him on the lost and found pet web site for my area?
We hadn’t even had him a year.
I trudged downstairs, fairly resolved in what I believed was our definite fate. Still I peeked into the laundry, hoping I would see something, my heart feeling heavy.
And I did… a familiar black and white furry figure was sitting outside on the mat, huddled up.
I gasped. Dropped my phone on a nearby bench. And I ran to open the door.
“Mister F!” Overwhelming relief was submerged by my tears that flooded out as I pat him, this cat that had a look on his face like he had gone through some heavy shit overnight.
“Ohhh, pussy cat.”
I will never take you for granted again Mister F. Nor will you ever see daytime after dinner either. 😉