Tuesday Mourning

The house is finally quiet. The baby is asleep, the weekend guests have gone home and now it's time for a good cry.

This weekend my father visited to watch E on Monday when I went to traffic court. Sunday night he informed me that my cats, Penny and Gwen, have run away. I have only now been able to sob in the silence as I think about what that means.

I had to let them go a year ago when I was told that my constantly recurring colds were really allergies. I cried in the doctor's office when I heard the news. What was I going to do with them? How could I live with them or without them? For 3 years they had been my family. The ones waiting for me when I came home at night, the ones who curled up at the foot of the bed, the ones who sat in my lap as I typed, the ones counting on me for all their needs.

My father took them in and promised they would return to my house (wherever that might be) when I had my allergies under control with shots. This summer Dad came to the new house and worked for 7 weeks to get it to a livable state for someone with allergies. He replaced the carpets with laminate flooring and a whole lot more. While he was away my sister, who lives in the country at the edge of a forest, took the cats. My indoor cats were not allowed in her house because she has a dog and because in their recent ventures into the great outdoors they picked up feline/canine hitchhikers. When my father returned home his house was over run with fleas.

According to initial reports they seemed satisfied with life in the garage. Food, water, a box and plenty of space to explore. The garage door was left ajar so they could come and go as they pleased. Penny became a good hunter, hanging out near the chicken coop which no longer houses chickens but is a favorite hang out for mice. Gwen, my scaredy cat, lived under the stairs in the garage that lead into the house. She came out only for the essentials -- food, water and litter. The last time my sister saw them Gwen had decided to venture out of the garage and they were both spotted in the yard. Since then the food hasn't been going down in the bowl much. There was speculation that Penny had become such a good mouser that dry food was no longer necessary.

According to Dad they haven't been found on the road dead. There have been no "found cat" postings in the local grocery stores, Sis has looked. I don't know if she has posted any "lost cat" flyers but I'd be surprised if she has. We are all hoping they will come back when the weather starts to turn, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

So now the real good cry begins, the realization that I will most likely never see them again, that I will not be able to hug them, pet them, tug gently on a tail as they rub against my leg.

I hope cats don't feel emotions the same way humans do. I hope they do not feel I abandoned them. I have felt abandoned, left alone when I needed someone most -- it sucks big time. I hope they are alive and together and happy wherever they are. Perhaps some family has adopted them. I can only hope.