By this morning, I was really starting to get concerned. I've been pet/house sitting for a mere five days and have held and petted only two cats, Oreo and Toby, during that time. I thought I had lost Lily and Reilly. I have absolutely no idea where they could be. Either something had happened to them or they became invisible.
I wasn't surprised I didn't see them the first couple days. These are country-livin' cats, after all--home a few days, gone a few days. For all I knew, the phantom felines could be coming and going from the house during the day when I'm away or at night when I am dreaming sweet dreams. Then I wondered if one of them might be trapped in someone's garage or shed. This led to thinking they might have been hit by cars even though they stay pretty much in the woods. Then there is always the possibility that...I tried not to think about the eagles and coyotes that also inhabit this neck of the woods. All I knew for sure was I hadn't seen either of them in five long days.
This morning, while feeding Big Dog and Pup, I saw the no-longer-missing Miss Lily. She was just sitting on the picnic table in all her grey glory watching the whole feeding scene. I wondered what was going through her sleepy, little head as Pup, hardly able to contain her excitement over a bowl of kibble, jumped all over the place before chowing down. The assorted colored bits in her bowl would be gone in a matter of seconds. In contrast, Big Dog looked down her nose at her same old-same old dog food, wagged her tail, sighed, laid herself down next to her bowl, and slowly dined. She was in no rush; it seemed Lily was in no rush either.
The dogs ate, she watched, and I slowly approached her highness. Not wanting to scare her off, I slowly stretched out my hand and said, "Good morning, kitty." Without a blink of an eye or a twitch of her tail, she observed my maneuver in complete boredom. I gave her a little pat her head. She gave me a little meow in return. I petted her sides. She seemed quite well fed. Now, certain she was just fine after her long absence, I sat down. We, Miss Lily and I, needed to have a little Grandma-to-cat chat.
"Well, well, little kitty, what have you been up to these past few days? I haven't seen you around much. Not at all, actually. Where have you been keeping yourself?"
As I awaited her reply, I rubbed her head and scratched her ears. I wasn't too surprised when no answer came. Her only response was the closing of her eyes and tiny twitch in her tail.This wasn't working, so I changed my approach.
"I am so glad you came home." I purred. "I really missed you a lot. I was afraid something bad might have happened to you.Your bowl of food is waiting inside. Why don't you come on in, have some breakfast, curl up on my lap, then we can talk."
Not only was my invitation met with silence, little miss kitty cat jumped off the table to rub noses with Oreo, my evening foot warmer. Off the two went, leaving me standing by myself with my cat petting hand in midair. I went inside. What else is a person to do when treated so rudely--by a cat?
Since then, Lily did grace the house with her appearance, though briefly. She took me up on my offer of breakfast, sat on a table next to me, heard something interesting outside, and left the premises. Will she be back soon? I sure hope so. We still need to have that Grandma-to-cat chat. I need to tell her that no young lady, even if she has had the "special" visit to the vet, should be running around all hours of the day and night. She needs to forget about the mice, moles, frogs, birds and other exciting things out there. She has perfectly good food by the water heater in the utility room. She needs to forget about hiding and sleeping in boxes and under bushes. What in the world is wrong with the sofa, or the stairs, or my lap?
Oh yes, Miss Lily, we need to have a talk.
On a more serious note, I really was concerned about the cats and beginning to fear the worse. I was quite excited to see Lily this morning. In a crazy sort of way I think I might have felt what the father in the story of the prodigal son might have felt. Relief followed by a lot of unanswered questions, then a desire to celebrate the return and an opportunity to discuss the dangers of questionable choices.
I still don't know where Lily's partner in crime is. While talking with my traveling son this morning, he told me where Reilly usually sleeps when he is outside--on the top shelf in the shed, of all places. Hopefully that is where I will find him when I head home pretty soon. If not, I will wait.
I feel bad that I don't know where the cats are when they are outside. I don't even know what they are doing. I make sure there is always food in their dishes inside and water in the bowls outside. I scan the yard for them when I'm outside, but until I see them, I just have to trust they are okay.
This whole experience with Lily has caused me to thank my God who watches day and night for any of his wandering children to return home. He will get a banquet ready and provide a great place to stay. The best part is that, unlike me who has no idea where my feline charges are or what they are doing, he always knows where his children are and what they are doing, even when they might think they are lost.
Thanking God for being a great father,
Jan
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