Lost and found kitten

“Sprout?” I called, starting to get impatient. “Sprout! Here, kitty…

"Kitty! Come!”

I looked down at Chienne and she stared back at me. “Go find the cat.” I ordered, then got in the shower. As I shampooed, I thought it was unusual for Sprout not to come greet me after I returned from walking the dog. But it’s not worrisome.

Strange that he didn’t come investigate when I turned on the shower to warm up, I pondered. He’s typically quite interested in the water, in a “hope that doesn’t get on me” sort of way.

I remembered calling out to let him know we were leaving when we had departed on our walk. I informed him when we had returned, though it was more to irritate Chienne (who is quite jealous) because she was dawdling by the flower bed on the front walk.

It worked – she scampered inside to assert her superiority against her tabby friend (or foe – whichever). But I didn’t hear the requisite hissing or sprinting in a game of chase. Perhaps I missed it. I’m sure Sprout’s around. He’s just being contrary, I soothed. Cats don’t come when called.

But when I stepped out of the shower, toweling off and reaching for lotion, I called for my lost kitten with increasing irritation. I was worried for no reason, I knew, but what if he’d finally tackled the dog door? Escaped to the great outdoors? I was planning to leave tomorrow morning (early tomorrow morning – 4AM early. Pray for me.) and couldn’t go without him. Even if I didn’t adore the furry creature, Mom never fails to ask about him. I’m not completely convinced I’ll be allowed to bring him home with me, but I do know he’s an eagerly anticipated visitor for Thanksgiving.

“Sprout…” I drawled it into 2 syllables, walking up and down my short hallway.

I took out garbage at 7 and it was now approaching 10. I was barely awake at first – had shifted, drifting easily into full consciousness, when I realized it was light outside. Garbage pickup is early and I didn’t want to miss it – I’m terribly disappointed when I forget and have 2 weeks worth of trash lying around.

So I stumbled through the house, collecting items to throw away. Cleaned the litter box. Mumbled something at Chienne, then clipped on her leash so she could wander to the curb with me. But I remembered closing the door leading to the garage before hitting the button to open the big garage door. I didn’t want Sprout to escape. I made sure he wasn't in the garage.

I was in the kitchen, tapping my lip with my fingertip, when I remembered I’d folded towels later in the morning. So I walked briskly back down the hall, calling the cat, then pausing to listen.

“Sprout?” I said gently, moving toward the garage, just in case.

As I turned the doorknob, I heard insistent meowing. Opened the door to a fluffier than normal cat. I wasn’t sure if he was deeply offended or trying to keep warm in the chilly garage, but his tail was at least three times its normal size.

I followed him as he ran in the house, then past me and Chienne toward the bedroom. I apologized profusely, told him he really was quiet and easy to miss, and he allowed me to pick him up to cuddle.

He’s now very careful to scamper back inside before I close the door. Poor cat. It’s unusual for me to trap him somewhere, but it’ll likely happen (on accident, of course) again.

It’s very unusual for me to not feel like writing for the blog. I had topics in mind – my 3 journals (this blog, other blog, dream journal (which is not blue)), my hatred of Thanksgiving, my strange delight in going home for an extended stay, how well things went at work today – but would rather work, pack and finish up with cleaning my house than weave some depressing or complicated story.

So I’m going to go with it – leave the 2 drafts of posts unfinished yet saved. Try to use the special software for one project again and see if the server troubles have resolved themselves. Allow the Tylenol PM to work so I can sleep enough to be functional at 4 tomorrow morning. Continue to remember items that need to make the trip with me. Eat the rest of those chili-lime peanuts in the pantry (they might go bad! Maybe. And I want them.) And not write anything all that interesting.

Though I am considering putting the bell back on the cat’s collar next to his shiny, silver name tag.