A Near Cat-astrophe

Sunday night, 8 pm: I get done eating dinner with my family and decide to check my voicemail. Bad news: Fudgems has gotten out of the apartment and is on the run. I immediately call Becky back to get the scoop. Turns out that Fudgems bolted out the door (he can bolt, apparently), trotted around the yard for a bit, and then took off; a neighbor says he saw him run across the main road. I immediately start crying at the prospect of stupid crazy Fudgems out in the world...surely there is no way he can make it back home.

9:30 pm: I make it back to the apartment. The place is lit up like a Christmas tree, all the windows and doors open, Friskies everywhere. Good thinking. If anything will bring Fudgems back, it's Friskies. Becky has looked and looked, but there's no sign of him anywhere. We remember that it's supposed to start storming on Monday or Tuesday. This is not good news. Storms will ruin both our fliers and our cat's fragile psyche: he's afraid of thunder. The clock is ticking. We put a box out on the front porch with a towel in it. A nap and Friskies! How can he resist?

10:30 pm: He resists. Becky gives up and goes to bed. I continue sitting on the couch/peering out the window for over an hour. Various people offer me tips and support over IM, up to and including an offer of a slightly smaller replacement Fudgems.

11:50 pm: I hear something bump against the back screen door. I get up and go into the kitchen, and what do I see through the door? Fudgems! He found the Friskies on the patio! Unfortunately, he sees me too and freaks out. He swerves toward the patio gate, then changes his mind and books it under the fence. This is an odd and un-Fudgems-like move. He looks stealthy...svelte, even. Has six hours on the streets changed him already? I'm trying to pry the stick out of the door and get the handle unlocked, but he's gone. I go outside and call him, shake the food...nothing. I put my shoes on and go out into the yard with a flashlight, but it's like he was never there. I don't want to go inside with him so close, but there's nothing else I can do. I feel slightly better that at least he knows where he lives. Maybe we'll get him after all.

12:15 am: Bed.

1:00 am: Just as I'm drifting off to sleep I'm awakened by horrible cat-yowling outside the window, and several houses away a dog starts barking frantically. I know it's Fudgems, but he's too far away. I have to lie down and go back to sleep.

4:45 am: The same cat-yowling, but much closer this time. I sit up and put my face to the window, and see Fudgems down on the patio. He is getting wailed on by...himself? There are two Fudgemses down there, locked in battle. I call his name through the window, and the Fudgems doppelganger freezes, looks up at me, then takes off under the fence. It's the cat from before! Regular Fudgems makes a beeline for the sliding door; the racket woke up Becky too, and she's already down there to let him in. By the time I get out of my room, Fudgems is trotting up the stairs for a pat. Becky and I wonder for a second if we let the wrong cat in--maybe Fudgems got away, and this is the evil twin. Luckily we're interrupted by the familiar sound of Fudgems heaving himself up on the dresser and planting his face in his bowl of food. Yep, that's him. He's back.

Monday, 2:09 pm: Stupid, fat, bipolar, clumsy, grouchy, awesome Fudgems is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, licking his business. Everything is back to normal.