Pretty, isn’t he? No, he’s not a Bengal, although he’s marked similar and has a lot of the same traits, as did his mother. He and his brother, Fat Amos, were rescued as tiny babies by my mom and Grace after the kitten’s mother was killed on the highway. Andy (yep, their names are Amos and Andy) is skittish around other people, but also an extreme lover of attention.
And a total asshole.
This past weekend, Grace was staying at Mom and Dad’s, and Rob and I were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day on Saturday with a fancy dinner at Vino’s Italian Restaurant and some PRIVACY, if you know what I mean. The jerk in the picture above ruined all that. I called Mom Saturday morning to check in, and Andy was missing. They hadn’t seen him since Friday around lunch. The cleaning ladies had been in (makes my parents sound much fancier than they are, trust me) and as usual, Andy ran for the hills. He never comes out while they’re around, and my parents assumed he was hiding. Except nearly twelve hours later, he hadn’t shown up, not even for his four a.m. lovefest with Dad.
Even Fat Amos, his own brother, was dumbfounded.
It was hard to imagine, but the fear was he’d somehow slipped past one of the gals when they had the door open, carrying stuff in and out. Totally unlike him, but where the hell was he?
My parents were both sick and upset, and Mom wanted me to come help look. They’d searched everywhere but outside. Please? So, one romantic weekend out the window and an hour and forty-five minute drive later, I arrived to save the day. I was sure he’d gotten outside in the freezing cold. So I searched. Searched the big machine shed where the combine is. The farm cats (who gladly eat off the porch but won’t let you touch them) watched me like I was nuts. Searched all around the house and down by the old barn, where some more cats hangout. Froze my butt off and got wind burn on my cheeks.
Came inside, scoured the house. The attic, the basement, all the closets and hidey holes. Mom and Dad had already done this, but they were sure he was in the house (I disagreed) and wanted me to look, too.
Four hours later, three trips outside and God knows how many times through the house, I gave up. I was sick to my stomach, as were my parents. Andy was a sweet, spoiled house cat without any front claws. There were outside cats, raccoons, and bobcats nearby. And it was so damned cold. I didn’t want to stop looking. All I could think was that he was outside freezing and I needed to find him.
I walked into the kitchen and looked out the back door at the deck in the futile hope he’d found his way to the house. Then I heard it: a loud, pathetic meow. My heart stopped. I whipped around, hoping like hell it wasn’t Fat Amos, even though he sounds like a kitten when he meows. It wasn’t, and it was close. But it couldn’t be. Behind me were the washer, dryer, and tall deep freeze. I’d checked behind the washer and dryer, and even left a path for him to get out. And there was simply no room for him behind that freezer. AND…we’d all been back there numerous times and called his name, and he didn’t say a damned word.
I called Dad, and of course Grace had her nose at my hip, and I wedged the freezer away from the wall. I peeked behind, and sure enough, a pair of green eyes staring back at me. Andy! I watched at he somehow twisted himself and slid out FROM UNDERNEATH the freezer (I still swear there was no room). I maneuvered the heavy-ass thing some more, and voila! He was free.
He ran for the potty, and we all sighed with relief. I was emotionally exhausted. So were my parents. We can only assume he’d made a run for it either when the cleaning ladies were close or when Grace came stomping in the back door, and got stuck. I could have felt bad for him, except we’d all called him 957 times, and the little shit couldn’t be bothered to answer.
So instead of my romantic Valentine’s weekend, I wound up with wind burn, mental exhaustion, and one grateful kitty. He even honored me with his presence several times throughout the night on Saturday. I suppose I got my lovin’ after all, even if it was in the form of a cold nose and loud, purring motor.
How was your weekend? Do you have any special V-Day plans? At this point, I’m thinking zombies and horror movies sound like a plan!