Back from Camping
Jack and I went on a camping trip to Horse Pens 40. Nothing huge, just an overnight stay with lots of s'mores, rocks, and Pabst. (check my facebook for pictures)
When we arrive back home, Katy enthusiastically greets us at the door, but we don't see Tilda. After unpacking the car, we start looking for her in earnest. We wander around our (small) house, calling her name and shaking her bag of cat food, but all to no avail.
It's been about twenty minutes and Jack is getting worried. He decides to look around outside just in case she managed to slip out when Rachel came to walk Katy. I open all of the doors, toss clothing out of hampers, squeeze into cabinets, but I still can't find her.
I look up the number of elan, Tilda's foster mom and "aunt" before we adopted the cat. Elan wishes me luck, but tells me that she doubts Tilda would wander very far. After I get off the phone with her, I call Jack for an update. Still no Tilda.
As I'm talking with Jack, another call comes in. It's elan and [Tilda's incarcerated original owner]'s mother, who fed Tilda while [former owner] was off doing things.
"She is a cham-pee-own hider," the mom assured me. "And so shy. Really, we could go weeks without seeing her."
Jack comes in and I hand him the phone. Relieved that the kitty is still in the house, I sit at my computer and try to relax.
Jack thanks the lady for her call. He then tells me an interesting tidbit from Tilda's immediate past:
"Tilda lived in the house with another cat. This cat was really old, but they were buddies. When elan's mom came to get them, she found that the other cat had died and Tilda was just sitting next to it. They'd been hiding."
So, apparently, one overnight trip can trigger psychological trauma for an abandoned cat. Next time, we'll board her.
She still hasn't emerged, though.
When we arrive back home, Katy enthusiastically greets us at the door, but we don't see Tilda. After unpacking the car, we start looking for her in earnest. We wander around our (small) house, calling her name and shaking her bag of cat food, but all to no avail.
It's been about twenty minutes and Jack is getting worried. He decides to look around outside just in case she managed to slip out when Rachel came to walk Katy. I open all of the doors, toss clothing out of hampers, squeeze into cabinets, but I still can't find her.
I look up the number of elan, Tilda's foster mom and "aunt" before we adopted the cat. Elan wishes me luck, but tells me that she doubts Tilda would wander very far. After I get off the phone with her, I call Jack for an update. Still no Tilda.
As I'm talking with Jack, another call comes in. It's elan and [Tilda's incarcerated original owner]'s mother, who fed Tilda while [former owner] was off doing things.
"She is a cham-pee-own hider," the mom assured me. "And so shy. Really, we could go weeks without seeing her."
Jack comes in and I hand him the phone. Relieved that the kitty is still in the house, I sit at my computer and try to relax.
Jack thanks the lady for her call. He then tells me an interesting tidbit from Tilda's immediate past:
"Tilda lived in the house with another cat. This cat was really old, but they were buddies. When elan's mom came to get them, she found that the other cat had died and Tilda was just sitting next to it. They'd been hiding."
So, apparently, one overnight trip can trigger psychological trauma for an abandoned cat. Next time, we'll board her.
She still hasn't emerged, though.