We had a bit of a scare last Friday involving the Greatest Cat in the World, Tuxedo.
See, our cats do not go outside, at least unattended. Tuxedo is allowed to walk along the railing with me by his side, or sit in my lap and take a siesta, but because of the rural nature of Casa Bob y Carlos, and the wild-ish animals who roam nearby, it’s not a good thing to let cats wander.
That said, over the course of time we’ve lived here Tuxedo has escaped a handful of times and has always been lured back inside by the promise of treats.
Last Friday, Carlos got up, let the dog out, fed the cats and made the coffee; we had breakfast and chatted and then I got up from the table …
“Where’s Tuxedo?”
“I don’t know, He was here for breakfast.”
"Did he get out when you let the dog in?”
“I don’t know.”
We began the search; through the house, in all the bedrooms, the office, the laundry room, the sunroom; under couches or on tables; in closets where perhaps a door was closed on him; in the bathroom.
No Tuxedo. I head out back, treats in hand, shaking the bag…
“TUXEDO! TUXEDO! TUXEDO!”
No Tuxedo. I go into the front yard …
“TUXEDO! TUXEDO! TUXEDO!”
No Tuxedo. Now I am scared and getting annoyed because I think Carlos missed him when he ran outside and so all kinds of thoughts—of what happened to the cat and what I will do to Carlos—are racing through my head.
“TUXEDO! TUXEDO! TUXEDO!”
Back inside; no cat. I then check every single cupboard in the kitchen, the laundry room and all the bathrooms, shaking that damned bag of treats as I go …
“TUXEDO! TUXEDO! TUXEDO!”
In the master bathroom, I look into a cupboard; no cat. I turn … and there he is, sitting in the bathtub.
See, the night before we’d given all the cats a hit of Advantage because they were scratching a lot. You give Advantage at the base of their neck, so they can’t lick it off.
Tuxedo, because he is so smart, thought he’d wait until Mean Daddy—his name for Carlos—got out of the shower and then he would roll around on the bottom of the tub so see if he could rub the Advantage off.
He got yelled at for disappearing and big smooch from Nice Daddy—that’s what he calls me—for being safe.
In the car, later, driving Carlos to work, I said:
“Sorry for all those hateful things I said about you when we couldn’t find Tuxedo.”
“You didn’t say anything mean to me.”
“In my head, sweetheart in my head.”
“Oh, I expect it was especially vicious then.”
“Yes.”
And luckily, just in my head.
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