So Bogey went out Monday evening and didn’t come in like he usually does when I go to the back patio door and call him. Now in the summer this isn’t too unusual, it’s warm enough out that he’ll stay out overnight night and then. And despite what the calendar may say, this weather hasn’t been particularly Decembery, but even so, I decided to leave the light on the patio on and sit by the window for a bit. Nothing.
Ok, no big deal. He’ll come to the door first thing in the morning to eat (his typical routine when he’s out overnight), so off to bed. Except he wasn’t there Tuesday morning. Curious. I walked around the house, calling his name. Nothing. Well, it was still dark, maybe when the sun came up. Nope. I’ll be honest, when I left for work, I was getting worried that he still hadn’t come back.
He was gone all day Tuesday and by last night I was imagining the worst. Had he been hit by a car? Did he get into (and lose) a fight with another cat or a raccoon or a bear? Ridiculous, there are no bears around here. But big raccoons? That’s a possibility. Then I started thinking of more realistic scenarios… It was rained Monday night, maybe he ducked inside a neighbors garage and was then accidentally shut in. Maybe he found a lady cat. I don’t know. He’s quite charming.
But this morning he was back, and, if I’m being honest, seemed nonplussed by the whole affair. He’s like a feline Don Draper, disappears for a few days without explanation and then waltzes back into the office all “What? Get back to work.”
Anyway, I’m glad he’s back. Everyone loves their pets but I LOVE MINE MORE. No, of course that’s not true. But to be honest, Bogey came into my life at a very unique time in my recovery and has been a good companion ever since, and I’m not ready to lose him or say goodbye.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Paul's letters... 