There's an old 80's hair band ballad called "Don't Know What You Got Til It's Gone." Suzanne and I spent most of the day pondering this statement in what turned out to be several emotional hours for both of us.
It all started around 7PM last night. George came inside after spending several hours out. He had clearly been rattled by something. And frankly, he was so shaken it was simply hard to get him inside. As soon as he'd come in, he'd want to go back out. Our guess was that he had confronted--or been confronted--by something and had become disoriented. After a brief bite to eat, George went back out. I turned the lights out on him several hours later as he was curled up atop the flower pot on our front porch. It is not unusual for us to leave him out overnight. In fact, it's our preference as we've always had more trouble with him going a full night without waking us up as opposed to Jacob doing it.
What was unusual was that he wasn't waiting at the door this morning for his breakfast. At 15 pounds, George has never missed a meal. He was absent and I immediately suspected something was up based on his mood the night before. Pretty quickly, I got dressed and went looking for him, walking our area of the neighborhood a couple of times and then driving the further distances (our subdivision has 1,500 houses!). By lunch, Suzanne and I made the decision to put up signs in the neighborhood. Both of us were convinced that he was dead, either by eating something poisonous which would've described his odd behavior or he'd lost the battle with whatever was stalking him. Nevertheless, we hoped someone might see him and call us.
By 4PM, we still hadn't seen any sign of him. Frankly, I was looking out every 10 seconds hoping I was wrong. Suzanne and I had each shed tears through the day. Obviously, he gets the brunt of our frustration more and more these days. I decided to walk the neighborhood once more looking for him. It was about to get dark and if he were hurt in a bush or ditch somewhere (Suzanne's theory), this may be my last chance to find him before the potential freeze came and finished him off. I walked for about 30 minutes. I did once encounter an orange cat hiding in a bush, believe it or not. It looked very little like George but I literally stood in place for what seemed like a minute calling him George, knowing it was not him. My trek had ended and George was again nowhere to be found. I walked back home and up the driveway. Lo and behold, George was sitting in the driveway staring at me. I could not believe it. I swooped him up for Suzanne to see. She couldn't believe it either. He is still acting somewhat strange and we are monitoring him, while being thankful he's again with our family.
I honestly did not think losing a cat (I've never been fond of cats) would have an impact on me. After reflection, I realized that George was our "child" for seven years basically and was always there for us during good and rough times. He is a tough bird and has always taken care of himself, while not taking kindly to strangers. But he loves his buddy Jacob. It's fascinating with all the prodding that Jacob had done in recent months that George lets him do it. He's very protective. The instance when I "lost it" was while looking for a picture to put on our "Wanted" poster. I brought Jacob in with me and every time he would see a picture of George, he would point and start giggling. It hit me that Jacob loves George, too. So, I'll dedicate a post to our old friend George because he deserves attention every once in a while, too. We are glad to have him home, just in time for Christmas. Enjoy these old shots of our two children.
