This cat of mine is certainly keeping us on our toes. Two months since his broken pelvis and we decided to let him outside during the day. Sunday and Monday he went in and out, in and out.
Tuesday morning he went out.
And didn't come back.
Not Tuesday night.
Not Thursday morning.
I was up and down the street, and the property, calling and whistling for him.
I was sick at heart.
Last night I went out around 8pm and searched the property and, again, under the neighbour's shed.
I settled on the couch, shed some tears, and picked up my knitting thinking that Game of Thrones would take my mind off this loss.
I was such a bad cat owner.
I shouldn't have let him out.
I should have a collar with ID on him.
I should have gotten him his shots.
Shoulding on myself.
Then at 9:30, over the mayhem ensuing on the television, I heard him mewing from outside.
I rushed to the back door, and in he came. Wet. Complaining. And very very hungry.
But fine otherwise.
Where was he? He talks alot (I think he is part siamese) but he is hard to understand.
We have been having lots of cuddles.
I think he is glad to be home.
I am certainly glad he is home.
See how I am letting him lie on the blanket I am knitting?
That's how much I missed him.
PS: I miss Prince too and while I was fretting about the missing cat, I finished this.