I had much to be thankful for this year at Thanksgiving. First of all, I’m thankful that I am able to afford retirement. I’m thankful we were able to visit my son in London, and I’m thankful for my husband taking good care of me while I was laid up with a broken foot. I’m even thankful for the bad housing market that prevented our selling our house and moving to be near our son as we had planned, because he’s now sold his condo in the states and is working in London for at least a year.
Of course, I’m thankful for the big-hearted friend who invites us and around three or four dozen other friends and relatives to her Thanksgiving feast every year.
But there was one thing that put a damper on my thankfulness this year. D’Artagnan, our new kitty, went missing. He followed Truffle out the door as usual at 6 AM Thanksgiving morning, but he did not start yowling to be let in fifteen minutes later. An hour later Truffle was in, but no D’Artagnan. As we left to go to my friend’s house, still no D’Artagnan. I figured he would be waiting impatiently outside our door when we got home, and didn’t worry about it.
Thanksgiving dinner was even more crowded than usual, but we did reconnect with old friends. The blessing this year was a blessing over the bread delivered in Hebrew and then translated into English (we’ve had Catholic and Baptist blessings in the past, so this was new). People spoke animatedly over the upcoming LSU-Arkansas game and we teased one friend over not having worn his Arkansas shirt.
When we got home, Truffle was waiting impatiently for us, but no D’Artagnan.
Friday morning I made posters and taped them out around the subdivision, and posted a “lost” notice on Craigslist. By Friday night when I went to bed, still no word. I heard John disable the alarm and open the front door at one point, but he had been checking the front door pretty frequently, as had I.
|D'Artagnan's picture from the "Wanted" -er-"Lost" poster|
This morning Truffle woke me up to let him out at 6AM, as usual. I disabled the alarm and went to the front door to let him out. A desk chair was parked under the door handle. As I turned to go ask hubby what was up with that, I saw a familiar black and white furry form by my feet.
“Where have you been?” I exclaimed. “He came in last night,” my husband explained. “I think he’s been in someone’s house, because he wasn’t hungry or thirsty.” He had put the desk chair by the door so I wouldn’t let the cat out again.
Did I mention I’m thankful for furry companions who wake me up at ungodly hours of the morning and keep me up all hours of the night and rip up my furniture and leave paw prints on the windshield of my car? Because I am.