Saturday, October 15, 2011

Cookie's Great Escape 2.0 | October 2011

Or, How To Lose Live Animals For a Couple of Hours


To borrow a phrase from Church Lady: well isn't that special.  I am really kicking Being A Parent's ass right now.

I lost our cat tonight for the entire time we were sleeping.

You know, the cat who we rescued because she ran away from wherever her original home was (a house? nature? we don't know...), crawled up under the hood of a Honda CRV, and took a 30 minute ride to my school.  Since she survived, we decided she should come live with us and have a quiet life...


Yeah, we're keeping them in.  Twinkle is already an inside cat basically because our neighbor is a Grade A Cat Stealer (more than one worried night I would go outside to call Marms and hear their door open so she could go outside first).  Not cool, bro.  I only leave Stan outside because he won't let himself be anybody's cat, so I know we're safe.

But here are some things you should know about Cookie:
1. She is not fixed yet.  (I know, I know... just haven't had time.)
2. She has not had all her shots yet. (See above.)
3.  (Most important!) She is NOT right in the head.  She's just a little... special.

She is not allowed outdoors, but she tries to escape all the time.

Anyway, when I was cleaning yesterday afternoon I opened all the windows to air out the house, even some windows I normally don't open.  Hurley dog has torn the screens along his dog run to shreds, so the one in our dining room has a sizable hole in it.  Since the cats were locked up when I was cleaning I didn't worry about it; I had our front door wide open too.

So of course when we ate dinner I closed the front door and let out the cats.  I never gave a second thought to the torn screen, and Cookie was asleep in another window for most of the night.

When E and I went to bed about 11:00 (abnormally late for me, but I was working on some things for school), I couldn't find Cook.  Usually all the animals run down the hall to beat us to bed.  Our room is a freaking menagerie.  I couldn't find her and Twinkle seemed a little on edge.  After looking around a while (unsuccessfully) I just cracked our door and went to bed.  I figured she was under a couch and didn't want to be found.

Hurley wanted to go outside three times during the night.  I got pissed, but I let him out.  He didn't seem to want to come back in.

One time I thought I heard Cookie crying.  I figured maybe she was stuck in Henry's room with the kids and I'd get her out in the morning.

At 5:40 A.M. I gasped.  It came to me in my sleep.  I woke Eric up.  "Oh my God, I know where Cookie is.  I shut the window when I came to bed.  She went out the screen!"

What ensued was a bunch of me in my PJs, running around in the dark, calling my cat like a loon--front yard, side yard, driveway--and a bunch of me worrying about how I was going to tell the kids that I lost one of their cats.

Side note: The short story I just submitted yesterday was based on the time we lost Lucky Puppy and based entirely on my sense of guilt when I have to tell my kids bad news (or that I lost something they care about).  Strange coincidence.

Eventually I heard some mewing and we did that thing where you run around and listen like a crazy person so you can try to figure out if it's coming from inside or outside the house.  Eventually she came running up to our screen door, fluffy and loud.

I'm going to try not to lose track of anything else today.  Stupid cat!

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