Oh happy day, calloo, calley
So, I've been thinking of getting a friend for Strigoi. Work's going to start up again soon, which means I'll be gone a lot more, and he hates being alone. So on Saturday I popped into the PetCetera to see about getting some info about the adoption program, cost, what info they would need, etc. And there was a beautiful black cat. Three years old. Friendly with other cats. Loves to be cuddled. A purr so deep it's nearly sub-sonic. Named Dracula. He was perfect.
I filled out the paperwork, and picked him up on Sunday.
On Monday night, Dracula jumped out the window.
I couldn't believe it. I was out there less than thirty seconds later, and he was gone. I spent wandering through parking lots peering under cars, but trying to find a black cat at night is nigh on impossible. I was crushed. And I felt like such an absolute failure. I'd managed to lose the cat after twenty-four hours, for crissakes.
Tuesday was spent making and posting signs, putting an ad in the paper, phoing the SPCA. My legs ached I walked so much.
Today, someone called. They live on the next floor, and they found him last night in the parking lot (apparently, parking lots are to be the recurring motif in my cats lives). He was cold and damp and more than a little freaked out, but otherwise okay. He's curled up under the bed right now, and I think we've all learned and grown from this little experience. Dracula's learned that outside is big and scary. I've learned that he's part ferret and can squeeze through tiny spaces. And Strigoi's learned that he's just going to have to deal.
And now, I'm off to get Drac a collar, and one of those little tags with my phone number on it.
I filled out the paperwork, and picked him up on Sunday.
On Monday night, Dracula jumped out the window.
I couldn't believe it. I was out there less than thirty seconds later, and he was gone. I spent wandering through parking lots peering under cars, but trying to find a black cat at night is nigh on impossible. I was crushed. And I felt like such an absolute failure. I'd managed to lose the cat after twenty-four hours, for crissakes.
Tuesday was spent making and posting signs, putting an ad in the paper, phoing the SPCA. My legs ached I walked so much.
Today, someone called. They live on the next floor, and they found him last night in the parking lot (apparently, parking lots are to be the recurring motif in my cats lives). He was cold and damp and more than a little freaked out, but otherwise okay. He's curled up under the bed right now, and I think we've all learned and grown from this little experience. Dracula's learned that outside is big and scary. I've learned that he's part ferret and can squeeze through tiny spaces. And Strigoi's learned that he's just going to have to deal.
And now, I'm off to get Drac a collar, and one of those little tags with my phone number on it.