Corner of Bourbon & Division

I remembered that I wrote a post about pets the other day, so I'm not sure how much more there is to actually say on the topic of the pets I've always wanted to have.

I'm still a little too raw over losing George and Pan-Pan (who's now been missing 22 days, not that I'm counting) to post any picspam of or stories about the cats.

I'm hoping elanya won't mind too much if I take a raincheck on a really long post about the pets. Instead, have some adorable pictures of the dog! I don't know if I should even try formatting these.( Sergent behind the cut! )

Sheesh.

He wasn't even outside. So much for my lovely, obedient Pan-Pan who comes when called. He must have been hiding somewhere in the apartment and been too comfy to come when I called him.

Stupid cat. He is entirely unrepentant too, the bastard.

Hmph.

So last night I was sitting in the garden, writing a letter and enjoying the balmy evening, when suddenly the neighbour's boxer lost its shit and went barreling across the yard, barking and snarling and practically frothing at the mouth. I got to my feet and looked over the fence in time to see a flash of black and white go ducking under the car that the neighbours keep parked in their garden (the local equivalent of living in a trailer park). Not a skunk, so I assumed it was the little black and white cat that's been coming around howling for a boyfriend lately.

The neighbour hauled her dog away with stern admonishments about not attacking cats. That's when moonandtree came out onto his balcony and told me that it was Pan-Pan who'd been in the neighbour's yard and was the object of the dog's ire. I immediately headed over, but the elderly gentleman who lives two doors down told me that Pan-Pan had taken off through the open fence into the alley out back, and he hadn't seen where.

Great. The neighbour told me she was pretty sure her dog hadn't hurt Pan-Pan, but of course the cat was nowhere to be seen, having had the scare of his lifetime, and so I couldn't check him to be sure. I spent the next two and a half hours looking for him.

The only good part about yesterday evening was just how nice the people in my neighbourhood are. Tyrone, the grandson of the local cat lady (Pat, who lives two doors down on the other side) joined me in my search and was just adorable. He's in his mid-teens now, and is growing into a fine young man, both polite, articulate, and helpful: his grandmother is probably the best influence he could have.

The elderly gentleman from two doors down also came out to help, but his form of help was to tell me in gruesome detail that the dog had grabbed Pan-Pan by the spine and shaken him like a stuffed toy before Pan-Pan got away, which did absolutely nothing to make me feel better, let me tell you. In fact, it had the opposite effect: I was more determined to find him, since I had no way of knowing if he was too injured to make his way home again. I tried very very hard not to imagine too many "dead in a ditch" scenarios as we searched. The fact that we lost a beloved cat friend only a couple of days ago to lymphoma did not help my state of mind: two cats in almost as many days was a bit much.

All the people we encountered were sympathetic, and some of them even put aside their beer to help look around their area and under cars and porches. Some of them said they had seen him go by ("He's a big black cat with a white stomach who kind of looks like Hitler, right?"), but some of the testimony was a bit unreliable due to the witnesses' being three sheets to the wind ("He was right here, I swear!"). It was very touching, though.

One guy even promised that, as soon as he'd finished his beer, he'd get on his bicycle and circle around to see if he could spot him. I made him promise to be very careful, as I don't want to live with the guilt of having him injure himself while cycling half-drunk around the neighbourhood after dark. :P

At about 22:30 I told Tyrone that we ought to give it up, since it was too dark to see anything. It's a school night, and I didn't want him out so late when his grandmother didn't know where he was. I came home to make sure Pan-Pan hadn't sneaked back into the garden, but he hadn't. Since I was alone by then, I allowed myself to burst into tears, then tried very hard to pull myself together so I could go out looking again.

I opened the back door, only to have Pan-Pan shoot inside like a bolt of greased lightning. I made a complete sobbing fool of myself, and hugged him and cried over him and made a big fuss, which he took with relative equanimity, although he seemed pleased to be safely back home. I checked him over thoroughly, and he's fine. Not a scratch on him.

So all's well that ends well. I am considering keeping all the cats chained in the basement, but I think perhaps I shall try to remain sane and sanguine about the whole thing.