A near cat-astrophe

I woke up this morning early and realised the orange cat hadn't come in last night. He's getting sneaky in his old age and likes to duck outside before dinner and push the limits of when he comes back in and gets locked in for the night. But he's not usually terribly late because hey, dinner is one of his all-time favourite things.

But this morning no orange cat. Which means he'd missed dinner and breakfast. And it had been raining all night (yay, rain). Getting one's orange paws wet is not on the list of all-time favourite things.

Needless to say I got a little freaked out. I started calling him at a suitable for 7am volume. I wandered around the side streets in the rain and up to the main road (which he doesn't go near usually...too many fences between here and it for getting elderly arthritic cat knees). No cat.

After a few more hours I started to really freak out. Cue tissues. He's not the quiet type. I figured if he was stuck anywhere nearby I'd hear him yelling. So, I did the sensible girl in crisis thing. I called my mum. And the VT, who promptly hied herself over from her far away suburb to help look (VT's are genuinely ace). We do the side streets again, probably ensuring all the neighbours thought they were being cased by peeking into back yards. We call him.

Still no cat. Not looking good. VT offers to go drive around the block some more. As she leaves, I thought I heard a meow. Go out and call him again. No response. So I figure wishful thinking and call the vet and the RSPCA. No sign of orange toothless burmese at either. VT arrives back, no flat cats found on roads, so that is one good thing. She suggests making a flyer and doing a letterdrop so we start doing that. Then I figure I'll go outside and call him again.

This time, I hear squawking in response. Outraged burmese squawking. VT and I hoon into the street, track him to neighbour's garage, from which he is promptly released. What does he do when rescued? Streaks away from us to sit down in the driveway and turn and give us the dirtiest of looks as if to say "what took you so long?". Then comes inside and gobbles down breakfast, has a smooch then goes to hide in the cupboard and sleep off his traumatic experience. VT and I collapse on couches, in need of vodka. Instead we did paperwork for RWA.

I have no idea how he didn't hear me calling him the first forty times. I mean, he was a whole 10 metres away. I'll get his hearing checked next time I'm at the vet.

But at least he's back. And I only aged a hundred years or so. Nothing a good night's sleep shouldn't fix. Or a nap. If only telemarketers would stop ringing me every time I try to nap. It's like they have a sensor on my pillow or something.
Maybe I can fool them this afternoon. And VT, I owe you chocolate.

And here is the orange cat. I'd like to say he's covering his eyes in shame for stressing everyone out but nah, he was just washing his face.