Last Friday morning, the wife supposedly let the cat out of the bag, and into the backyard for the usual daily attack on nature. All seemed fine and life goes on. Saturday rolls by, then Sunday… but wait? Where’s the cat? Momo (so named for a small, winged, Lemur) does not appear to be fed in the morning or at night. Hmmm. Not usual – but she did tree herself earlier this summer. And yes, since you asked, a chainsaw was involved.
So out into the world we wander, trying to locate said feline. Negative. No joy. No cat.
So come Wednesday, we figure the cat is happily digesting in a Coyote or performing her new duties as a sail-cat. Bummed, but undeterred Litsa goes about clearing her office of a wheel barrow sized load of stuff, including all the cats hoo-ha.
Almost done. Be patient.
So, I get up this morning, Take a shower, consume my OJ, and sit down busily pounding away at my keyboard looking at Tiger Direct for some fun techno-goodies (there’s a story there too), and I hear some scratching and what sounds like a meow. WTF? So I go and ask Litsa if she heard it and Donovan is squawking about not going to school – so I figure it was them dukin’ it out. Litsa suggests it’s Momo’s ghost. Sure. Whatever. Back to my digital distraction. Then I hear it again. So now I know the freakin’ cat is in the house, upstairs and trapped. I look in the bedrooms, spare, master, etc. Nope. Nada. Then I hear small, dull, thud. After a short heavy sigh, I figure out where this furry-retard has been.
I open up our linen closet and lo-and-behold, a Momo pokes her head out of the door – well a slightly thinner version of Momo that is. What kind of idiot arse cat sits in a closet, right outside our bedroom for 5 days and doesn’t make a single sound. I even went into the closet Monday for towels after bathing my two little monkeys.
Whatever. We are all happy to have our cat back from the linen closet. Welcome home Momo.