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Least the soundtrack of life has been good. We saw Spike Lee's BlacKKKlansman last weekend, which was full of soulful 70s goodness, including this by the Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose I hadn't thought of, much less heard, in probably 30 years but still remembered every word and note of.
But for the past almost 72 hours, the song in my head has been this one from the Chi-Lites:
The humans (and dog) here are fine, but overnight Tuesday, the evil cat got out- and despite postings, searching and, today, a visit to the SPCA, Michelle is still missing.
We've had her for 15 of her almost 17 years- they confirmed the adoption date and her age when I went down to make the report today (we got her and her much nicer, long-deader older brother from the SPCA Whisker Wagon). They also told me something we never knew: they didn't do microchips back then. (Ebony, who we got a bit earlier but who was younger than Michelle, was our first pet to have one.) However, this cat does have a hidden tat, which will identify her if anyone brings her in.
As for the rest of the drill? Signed up on local pages for lost cats. Put out a litter box she'll recognize (trust me) and a hoodie with Mommy's scent. (They also suggested putting a favorite toy outside. That's hilarious; this cat does not play. She might torture a bug for fun, but that's about it.) We've reported to all the nearby neighbors who might see/have seen. And Pepper and I (joined for a bit last night by our friend Ann and her friend Ursula) have walked the block at all hours. Calling out her name that she'd never deign to answer to; also calling out the far more familiar-to-her cry of "Shut Up, Cat!" (We had a neighbor at our previous Rochester house who named their kitty that.) All that remains is to put up some signs; I'll do that tomorrow, since we're expecting a remnant-of-Florence storm tonight, which would just blow them all down anyway but which might entice the stupid aminal to come home.
It's only been two nights. Esmeralda, Bozo, Biggsy all went missing for days if not weeks; Zoey tends to stick close to where the fud is. And the dogs have all gotten out for a good chase now and then, but they're much easier to spot and corner.
I swore I heard her distinct yowl in the pens at the SPCA, but there was no sign of her. On the other hand, there was this little beauty:
That would be Lilly, all four months of her. Hers was the first cage I looked into and the resemblance to our beloved departed Tazzer was striking. So if we give up,....
Oh, shut up, cat:P And get your cranky old ass back here.
But for the past almost 72 hours, the song in my head has been this one from the Chi-Lites:
The humans (and dog) here are fine, but overnight Tuesday, the evil cat got out- and despite postings, searching and, today, a visit to the SPCA, Michelle is still missing.
We've had her for 15 of her almost 17 years- they confirmed the adoption date and her age when I went down to make the report today (we got her and her much nicer, long-deader older brother from the SPCA Whisker Wagon). They also told me something we never knew: they didn't do microchips back then. (Ebony, who we got a bit earlier but who was younger than Michelle, was our first pet to have one.) However, this cat does have a hidden tat, which will identify her if anyone brings her in.
As for the rest of the drill? Signed up on local pages for lost cats. Put out a litter box she'll recognize (trust me) and a hoodie with Mommy's scent. (They also suggested putting a favorite toy outside. That's hilarious; this cat does not play. She might torture a bug for fun, but that's about it.) We've reported to all the nearby neighbors who might see/have seen. And Pepper and I (joined for a bit last night by our friend Ann and her friend Ursula) have walked the block at all hours. Calling out her name that she'd never deign to answer to; also calling out the far more familiar-to-her cry of "Shut Up, Cat!" (We had a neighbor at our previous Rochester house who named their kitty that.) All that remains is to put up some signs; I'll do that tomorrow, since we're expecting a remnant-of-Florence storm tonight, which would just blow them all down anyway but which might entice the stupid aminal to come home.
It's only been two nights. Esmeralda, Bozo, Biggsy all went missing for days if not weeks; Zoey tends to stick close to where the fud is. And the dogs have all gotten out for a good chase now and then, but they're much easier to spot and corner.
I swore I heard her distinct yowl in the pens at the SPCA, but there was no sign of her. On the other hand, there was this little beauty:
That would be Lilly, all four months of her. Hers was the first cage I looked into and the resemblance to our beloved departed Tazzer was striking. So if we give up,....
Oh, shut up, cat:P And get your cranky old ass back here.