We had a rather stressful evening the other day. I came home from shopping in Missoula, made dinner, relaxed, then went into the kitchen to feed the animals. At this point, I realized Boots was not around. She didn’t come into the kitchen while I was making steaks to yell at me for food. So…I started searching.
I looked and looked, and looked again with a flashlight. I crawled under and behind things, I moved every object in my closet, I even went into the crawlspace under the house. Steve joined in the search and looked in all the places I looked. No Boots.
This is a cat who refuses to go outside when the temperature goes below 40 degrees, so we thought it was unlikely that she had gone out the dog door. But we became pretty convinced she wasn’t in the house, so we started searching outside. It was about 20 degrees out and it started snowing so we knew if she was outside and spent the night out there she probably wouldn’t make it until morning.
I finally came to the conclusion that she must have crawled off somewhere to die. Cats will do this when they sense they are going to die. The strange thing is that we had seen her earlier in the day and she looked fine and was as bossy as ever. We didn’t know what else to think and we realized we probably weren’t going to see her again. We both cried and spent the night tossing and turning, imagining her dying out in the cold and snow.
The next morning, I lay in bed realizing that I was going to have to get up and start the part of my life without Boots. She’s been with us for almost 17 years and although she’s got attitude, we love her. Steve came in from getting wood for the fireplace and called to me that Boots was here. I ran downstairs and there she was, looking fine and meowing for breakfast. I simply couldn’t believe she was there after all the searching clkjvak aksdy hey! Ouch! YOWR!
This is Boots. I took over Mother’s apparatus because I simply could not listen to any of her drama queen talk any further. I do not have to tell Mother and Father where I am all of the time. They are not the boss of me. I am old enough to take care of myself and I knew where I was all of the time. There is no need for all the crying and histrionics, although I was appeased to see that I am properly appreciated in the household, as I should be. That Other cat, the striped one, knew where I was but I told her not to inform Mother and Father. I do not have to report to them. Mother tried to brush me when I got back but I hissed at her and nipped her hand to make her think twice about bossing me around.