She called the cat’s name, but Gracie – wherever she was – didn’t show herself, she didn’t even give a peep.
Considered as my friend is, she didn’t want to rattle the treats box, just in case Gracie was sleeping. So she continued to look and eventually found her pet tucked up in a pillow case.
Her story reminded me of when I lost Chanel.
Chanel was about eight weeks old when we adopted her from a shelter and lively as she was, she got in all sorts of trouble.
When she was about ten weeks old, I went looking for her and couldn’t find her. I called her name a few times, but being a kitten she didn’t really listen to her name yet.
I looked everywhere. I systematically searched every room, looking under beds and chairs, in cabinets and behind sliding doors. When I was finished I started my search all over again, but Chanel was nowhere to be found.
Out of my mind with worry I started my search again. This time also checking between the sheets of the beds, in the laundry basket, the bath, buckets and shoe boxes. I came up empty handed.
The balcony I suddenly remembered ... what if Chanel had gone out on the balcony and fallen off? I opened the sliding door, stepped outside and peered down. I couldn’t see anything, but then my vision isn’t the greatest.
Quickly I put on some shoes, grabbed my keys and rushed downstairs. First I looked in the grass directly under our balcony, then searched the rest of the garden.
“Looking for something?” a neighbor asked.
“A kitten,” I told her. “I have a ten week old kitten and she might have fallen off the balcony.”
The neighbor joined me in my search. Together we searched the grass, checked under shrubs and even peeked at all the ground floor balconies to see if Chanel was perhaps hiding somewhere. More people, who saw us, joined in the search but we found absolutely nothing.
“She must still be in your unit,” my neighbor said. “Cats are smart, they don’t just jump off a balcony, they know they would hurt themselves.”
Hm yes, cats are smart, but kittens …
The moment I came home, the mystery where Chanel had been hiding was solved. Upon hearing me come in, she slithered out of the sofa, from between the seat and the backrest cushions.
“You little rascal,” I waved my finger at her. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?”
With her little fuzzy paw, Chanel took a swipe at me as if to say “Get that finger out of my face.”
These days when I can’t one of the cats, all I have to do is rattle the treats box. Unlike my friend, I’m not worried whether or not I wake one of them up. After they had a treat, they go right back to sleep.
As soon as I rattle the box …
Charlotte comes storming toward me at a speed of … get out of my waaaaaay!
Mickey arrives at a gentle trot, he knows that he’ll get his treats, even if he’s a bit late.
Chanel usually stays where she is, she knows that to get treats, she doesn’t necessarily have to get up. The treats will be served in bed (wherever that is).
Gabriel will join the others but at his own pace. Yawning and stretching he makes his way over to me with the attitude of … I’m coming, I’m coming, just hold on a second.
As for Holly, she’s too young for treats, but I wonder what her attitude will be in the future. Will she be an ‘I’ll-go-over-corpses-if-I-have-to’ cat like Charlotte, or a ‘don’t-rush-me’ cat like Gabriel?