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Lost ... and Found

November 16, 2006

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When we came back from a weekend away, our cat Luther had gone AWOL. Our neighbors who had been feeding him said he'd been gone since Saturday, and they had spent a long time calling for him. (Years ago, they had borne the burden of discovering our previous cat, Jonah, after a Rottweiller had played rag doll with him -- so there was an uncomfortable sense of deja vu all around.)

When he didn't show up the next day, I walked around the neighborhood calling him, spending extra time calling into Gordon's house, since they tend to come up to work on the house on weekends, but then leave it empty during the week. "You stuck in there, Luther?" But there was no answer.

Rainy days went by, and he never came home. We finally got enough of a break in the rain to hang reward posters, and while the girls were doing that, they heard an angry meow coming from Gordon's house. "Daddy, come quick!" Ellie yelled. "Luther's dying!"

He wasn't dying, he was just hungry. (I've felt like that.) We fed him a whole can of cat food, and in an hour he was back to his imperious self, a little thinner but not much the worse for spending six days locked up alone.