Without a Trace


Last night after Devan (finally) went to bed I spent the evening searching for furniture and looking at paint samples for our bedroom remodel. I was having a great time and stayed up way later than usual from the excitement of finally finding some things I liked. Finally as we were locking up the house and heading for bed Craig asks “Have you seen Lucy?”

Well now that I thought about it, it had been awhile. But then again, we have 5 levels of house so it is pretty easy for her to find a place to hide. So we searched the house, top to bottom. No cat. So, we searched the house again, top to bottom. No cat. So we searched the garage again. No cat.

By this point, I am starting to panic a little and realizing that Lucy was most likely not in the house. And you’re probably wondering why I care so much knowing that a few months ago I was mulling over putting her down but the fact is that I love that darn cat. Ugly, old, loud, whiny, and barfy sure but somehow I still love her. And with the new space we have room to put her in the basement at night and things seems to have been going fairly well with her lately. She even lets Devan tug her tail, so that’s something.

Well we went to bed realizing that she was definitely outside and wondering how in the heck she got there. She moves incredibly slowly and is not one to like to leave our side. And she would have had to slip out of the family room, then the laundry room, then the garage door for the 30 seconds Craig had the door open last night which seemed so incredibly unlikely. And honestly her chances outside weren’t great- a new neighborhood, she is deaf, and declawed. Things looked dim. After failing to fall asleep I decided to sleep on the couch with the doors open in hopes of hearing her. And then when I still couldn’t sleep I sat out on the porch, in the middle of the night, hoping she would wander back. No cat.

This morning I am just beside myself. We checked with neighbors, I called Animal Control and the local shelters and no luck. I am accepting that our cat is not coming home and Craig is trying to leave for work while I am bawling my eyes out and saying “How can you leave now? Lucy is gooooooooonnnneeee.” Craig decides to humor me and search the house one last time in case she crawled into a vent (not that she would fit) to die. No cat.

And then 20 minutes ago as I sit on the couch and sob that our cat died at the hands of a pack of vicious neighborhood dogs I hear a faint noise. A very faint meow. And I run to the back door and fling it open and there, sitting on the deck, is a filthy dirty Lucy.

And I can not even begin to tell you how overjoyed I was to see that stinky old cat.


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