Tuesday, February 05, 2013

When the cat went missing

Last night I finally sat down after a busy filled day of ferrying my three kids around to various points within the city. My husband had taken the last two up to bed after story time and I figured that it was high time that I finally check out the very popular Masterpiece Theater show Downton Abbey. I flipped open my computer and navigated over to Amazon and hit play.

I noticed that our cat, Pippa, wasn't with me so I figured she was upstairs with the kids and settled back into my mostly uncomfortable chair to watch the drama unfold. Somewhere around the half way mark of the very first episode as I was thinking to myself how lovely the fashion was in 1912 and thankful that I don't live in a gigantic house with over 50 servants to manage my middle child came downstairs. He of course climbed onto my lap with my frustrated husband not to far behind. My husband had two meetings with folks in China and so off he went to talk about business while I was left with my son to watch the remains of the show. I registered again that Pippa wasn't anywhere to be seen and figured I would find her after the show.

My five year old thoroughly enjoyed Downton Abbey, except for the parts where the adults argued and begged for more as it came to an end. At this point I shut down the computer and went in search of the cat who is never too far away from me at any given point in time. I looked in all her usual places, on a chair in the kitchen, curled up on her scratching pad and in my youngest's bedroom and I couldn't find her anywhere.I began to seriously panic. Pippa is an indoor only cat, who can be afraid of just about anything. I ran down the stairs and into the basement room where my husband was in a meeting. I began to quietly and yet frantically search for the cat. I mouthed the word "w h e r e i s t h e c a t ! !?! My husband shook his head and motioned that we would find her.

Meanwhile my brain went into over active hyper panic mode. I started crying and feelings of failure and sadness washed over me. I started imagining Pippa all alone, scared and outside in the dark cold night. And then my brain went to the worst case scenario; Pippa is lying dead on the side of the road. I grabbed a flashlight and went madly running around the house.

I tiptoed into my eldest daughter's room and searched her closet with the flashlight, nothing. I opened up the hallway closets, nothing. I went into my bedroom and shined the light under the bed, nothing. I went into my youngest's bedroom and gently pulled the covers up from the bottom all the way to my daughter's toes, nothing. I flew down the stairs and searched the front hall closet, nothing. I searched the kitchen cabinets  nothing.   I went out the front door, nothing. I went out the back door, nothing. I went back into the basement and sobbed to my husband that the cat was gone.

He calmly said that Pippa was probably just in one of her super smaller hiding places, we'd find her, there is no way she got outside. So, off my husband went, flashlight in hand searching in all the places I had just looked. As he checked out places he closed them off, knowing full well that if Pippa was in the room he'd just sealed she would scratch at the door.

While my husband search I stood in the middle of the living room completely lost myself. My son curled up on the couch and waited. My daughters slept through this entire drama without a care in the world. My husband ended his search and still we had not found our cat. And then I heard it.

I heard an odd noise coming across the baby monitor in my youngest's room. It was faint but audible to me. I flew up the stairs without my husband really noticing that I had gone. I once again  looked the over room. I opened the closest (again) and yet found nothing. I heard the sound and was suddenly worried the cat had somehow fallen behind the dresser. I opened a side cupboard door and found nothing. And then it happened.

I opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser and there was Pippa! Somehow she had climbed into the drawer and two of my kids had closed it on her. How did the adults miss this act of random badness? Easy, my husband left them for maybe 30 seconds to grab something he had forgotten. Being out of the room for that amount of time gave our kids long enough to close the cat up in the drawer and go back to jumping on the bed (which they aren't supposed to do) without anyone being the wiser.

After it was all said and done Pippa wasn't mad at us. She just wanted to be petted and loved by her family. I joked to my husband that this drama was reason number 10 why we can't have any small animals in this house. Any dog would have to be at least 40 pounds or more. The kids wouldn't be able to shove a 50 pound dog in a drawer, or could they?

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