I miss my cat.
Pretty sure the coyote’s got him.
He’s a neutered tomcat, so that impulse to travel the neighborhood in search of love was not there.
The longest he has ever been gone before this was 4 days.
Today is day eleven.
The night he went missing we could hear coyote’s hunting just a few hundred yards to the south of us in a cornfield.
Some of you know I mentioned on my other blog, there were live traps recently placed in the ditch near our home.
I checked both of them several times…nope.
I grew up on a farm…we had your typical herd of barn cats. Never got emotionally attached to any of them like I have been with this cat. He was a Russian Blue. Rescued him when he was a little kitten two years ago.
Can’t tell you how many times I have stuck my head out the door to call him, wake up in the morning thinking, maybe today is the day, he will be back, scratching on our front door to come in for a snuggle.
I’m still processing.
I do have a couple of thoughts that console me.
First, he should have been dead two years ago. Had I not stopped to rescue him, pretty sure that would have been the end of him that day.
Secondly, he LOVED being outside. He was an out-door cat. We locked him up a few weeks ago, in the garage while we had someone here treating a rat infestation.
That lasted one night. He broke out a window. Wasn’t having any of it.
And because he was an outdoor cat, who loved to hunt small birds, ground squirrels, mice, grasshoppers, you name it, there was always a chance something would get him.
Better two years doing what he loved, than years and years, stuck in the house, as some de-clawed, depressed, shadow of a cat.
Doesn’t mean I don’t miss him.
Daughter and her family stopped last night before heading home after being in the area for Thanksgiving. She was scrolling through the pictures on her phone showing us some photos from another family get-together. One of the pictures showed her father-in-law sitting in his chair, with his favorite cat Larry on his lap. Granddaughter Addy told me, that Larry, loved to gently “knead” his paws against her grandpa’s arms when he held him.
Made me jealous.
Barron used to do the same thing. I read it was a behavior cats sometimes do…it mimics what they do when they are little kittens wanting to nurse, trying to get their mother to let her milk down.
Barron (initially called “Toodles”) my missing tomcat.