Tim and I don't have kids (yet), which means that our cats, Bucky and Oliver, are our babies. While the two can be more than a handful we still love them, that is until they scare us to death.
It's Saturday. Tim and I have had a great morning: got up, made tea, went for a 3 mile run/walk, had breakfast, took showers, got dresses and ready to head down to the Chocolate Fest. As we're about to head out the door I remind Tim that we wanted to head to Ben Bridge (our jeweler of choice) to get me ring checked and we need the card for it. Tim heads back to the office to look for the card, I've got the door propped open a few inches with my foot.
It's taking Tim longer than I expected, so I shut the door and tell him we can just do it some other time and begin playing with Oliver with the laser pointer. That's when I realize Bucky isn't here playing too. Neither of these cats can resist the laser pointer. It's like kitty cocaine. So now I'm worried. We tear apart the apartment using the laser pointer and food to lure him out: No Bucky. Tim starts walking the apartment complex with his food dish and wet food: No Bucky. I'm losing it - tears streaming down my face, mascara ruined, hyperventilating. What will we do without him? What if he gets hurt? The thoughts racing through my head are endless.
I call 24petwatch because Bucky is microchipped. They start an alert and give me some advice on finding him. After setting his litter box outside I sit down at the computer to make up lost cat posters. Tim and I make one last sweep around the entire apartment complex. I'm calling Bucky's name and strumming my fingers on his food bowl. Tim is talking to neighbors and putting up posters.
We make it back to our building and I reluctantly climb the steps to our apartment. I'm defeated. I don't know what else to do. I head to our door, but instead walk past it to the steps on the back side of the building and stop at the first landing. I look out into the yard, still strumming my fingers on Bucky's food bowl. I still don't know how, but something on our neighbor's balcony caught my eye. There, behind a pile of gray logs, the exact same color as our cat, was Bucky. "Hey Buddy!" I exclaim and Tim comes running. Now the dilemma is no longer, "where's the cat" but instead "how do we get the cat?" The neighbors aren't home, the balcony is on the second floor. Bucky sees us, but is reluctant to come to the edge and hop over to us. Miraculously, one of the girls that lives in the apartment comes home and rescues Bucky from the balcony.
It took every last shred of willpower to keep myself from wanting to yell at that cat when we got him back in the house. I fed him some wet food and we snuggled a lot. I don't know what I would have done if he had been lost for good. I can't even think about it. Thankfully everyone is home safe.
