As I sat on the couch and sobbed last night (ahem… yeah… blogging while sad should be right up there with the “don’ts” like dialing while drunk… but moving on…) M woke up and came to see what was wrong with me. I’m the tough one in our relationship, I don’t break down very easily, and when I do, it worries him. A lot. He tried to comfort me, but I was pretty determined to cry this one out. He helped me pick up toys and tried to call in the cat while I got ready for bed.
The house was picked up and I had calmed down. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, sweet, sweet sleep, but for the first time in 14 years the cat didn’t come when we called. We shook the cat food container, we walked around the block calling him, we begged, we cajoled, and finally after 45 minutes we had to admit that he wasn’t coming home. For the first time since he was born I slept without my cat at the end of the bed. Any calm that I had mustered went right out the window and I cried myself to sleep. It felt like too much of an omen to ignore. It was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back.
At this point I should probably take a second for a little aside. I wasn’t 100% forthcoming in my post last night about my reasons for breaking down. A person I love dearly has a serious medical condition that was just diagnosed. I promised to not say anything and I haven’t figured out how to blog about something I can’t discuss. If I can’t blog about something I, apparently, can’t process it and get it out of my system. So that, plus everything else, is what caused me to loose my shit completely and utterly. The cat going missing was just icing on the cake. (Who can think of any other metaphors I can work into this saga?)
Anyway, back to the point. Point? I had a point? Oh yeah, right. The cat, missing. Me, sad. Yada yada yada.
This morning the cat wasn’t sitting outside the door waiting for his breakfast. I resigned myself to picking out pictures for a flyer and I placed a call to the Humane Society. Then, as I gathered my things and corralled C, I glanced out of the open door just as my four legged friend sauntered in through the open gate to the garden. He seemed a little sheepish and relieved to be home. I’m convinced he wandered into an open garage last night and got trapped in when they closed the door. In the end though, it doesn’t matter, my cat came home, and it feels like as much of an omen as him going missing in the first place.
I’m going to be ok. We’re going to be ok. Somehow this whole thing is going to be just fine. It has to, the cat came back.