Chasing My Cat
Once again-not a euphemism for something more exciting. Chasing a runaway cat is actually what I have been doing the past few days. WE have two cats; one a friendly little kitten and the other, a very reluctant and frightened older cat. He usually spends most days hiding under a bed and only ventures out when he believes everyone is asleep. Well, he must have been plotting his escape for a while because when we finally had some nice weather and opened up the sliding door to the deck to prepare the outdoor table for dinner, he bolted from upstairs and out through my legs. Considering that I had to not just promise to the animal shelter that I would never never let him out and that my children have grown attached to this phantom cat, I was forced to give chase. Of the two, I will say that I am more afraid of the animal shelter guardians than of my children’s reaction as they are not fooling around over there when it comes to their feelings on outdoor cats. So I’m sprinting around my house, back up the hill, through the neighbors’ houses and onto the next cul de sac. As he was running, he actually turned his head to spot me and didn’t not even break stride. I believe I also heard the opening bars of Lynrd Skynrd’s Free Bird as he sped out of sight.
After a night or two of his disappearance, I was forced to make a missing animal report. When I say forced-I mean my children forced me to against my better judgment. They did not hide their disgust at my irresponsibility and my lack of a collar. I tried to explain that I didn’t use a collar as I had sworn he would never go outside. That led nowhere and I was left to canvas the neighborhood. The only problem was that it was also pouring rain and the middle of the day by the time I undertook this task. Now, in New York you can look as crazy as you want and no one will either care or even notice you. Not so when you are the only person walking around outside and in the rain. I was acutely aware of how strange and possibly menacing I might look as I paced around a sidewalk-less neighborhood wielding a blowing golf umbrella. I tried to think how I could make this look more normal to the people who were probably looking at their window and dialing 911 as I approached. I decided to start making kissing sounds and ducking my head so as to indicate that I was indeed looking for an animal rather than just being a wild-eyed soaked psycho. I then realized that a person all alone kissing the air is not much better than brandishing a chain saw-besides, my lips were getting tired. The next day in the dry sun I set out again and begged my children to come with me so I wouldn’t look like the “lunatic from the other day” as I’m sure people would refer to me. It turns out, peering under decks doesn’t make you inconspicuous either, even if you have children with you. Then it got much worse. I approached a woman to see if she had spotted a missing cat and to put her at ease with my presence. She must also work at an animal shelter because the first thing she asked was how he got out in the first place and then, ‘did he have a collar?’ Let’s just say I think she is at this moment writing a letter of warning about me to the ASPCA. So, my chase, like so much about my cat-possibly a euphemism this time, your choice-is not going well. This is the outlook I’m facing. I will have to replace him, but the shelter in all likelihood has blacklisted me. I will be reduced to finding an underground kitty mill and taking home an insane genetically mutated psychotic cat. At least both of us will go unnoticed should we move back to New York. As for here, I’m sure there’s a youtube video floating out there with the heading ‘strange suburban lady wandering and kissing’ and in the distance you will hear the distant strains ‘and this bird will never chaa aaaa ange.’