Cool for Cats

Well, we have had quite a fretful morning here in Sam’s Town.

The disappearance of your cat for a few hours in the evening might cause a slight tremor of concern but nothing quite shakes you into full-on fretfulness like an evening, night and morning of disappearance. Posters were being sketched out in my mind, tales of sadness to pass onto family and friends were being rehearsed and speculation over whether we could cope with or without another cat was rife. We even stepped out in the rain of all things to take a look in the neighbour’s garden, before retreating into the warmth of our house for a well-earned coffee.

Nothing. Not even a despairing cry of a cat caught in a nearby hedge. The chance to don my superhero costume and endear myself to her for ever was diminishing by the second. We were at the ringing-up-the-vet stage, certain that they would confirm that, yes, the stroking days were indeed over. The fur she had shed these past weeks as she donned her summer coat would be the lasting reminder of her previously-permanent presence. It would, quite simply, all be over. Cat number 3 to have departed from us in the last 3 years. Guinness World Records on stand by…

And yet, at 11.15ish (I was far too excited to check the exact minute), the prodigal cat nonchalantly stepped through the flap and sashayed towards her plate of food as though nothing had happened. A scream of delight emanated from the kitchen, I bounded down the stairs like a child at Christmas and the reunion was complete. Cries of ‘where were you?’ were met with little more than a twitch of the whiskers, clearly communicating the message that we should be far more trusting than to question the every movement of a 4 year old.

So, with the stroking days and the potential for lap-sitting returning, we can finally join the banks in their holiday today and cease our anxious whining. I hope the rest of you have had far more relaxing days off today and have enjoyed the greyness of the sky.

And may your cats be safe.

Amen.