The following takes place between 10pm on Saturday night and 10pm on Sunday night.
Sorry! I couldn’t resist the '24' reference but my cat did in fact, go missing for exactly 24 hours one day last April.
Now I appreciate that many people may not actually count their cat as missing until they have been gone at least 24 hours but at the time they were very young and didn’t usually stay out for more than half an hour at a time. Also I have a tendency to ‘freak out unnecessarily’ about things at the first available opportunity - which in this case was about 2 hours after I had seen him last! This for me was an incredibly difficult and stressful experience and one which taught me a lot about how I felt about my most troublesome cat.
I have two cats - Jason and Milly, and my husband accuses me of playing favourites with Milly. It was unfortunately true and I just couldn't help myself! Milly was a little tortoiseshell, much smaller than her ginger brother and very delicate, dainty and a flighty little thing. At the time, she wasn't that keen on lap-sitting so you really had to earn the right for her to sit on your lap, mostly by continuous face scratching; whereas Jason would just bulldoze his way onto whatever lap was available regardless of whether or not you wanted him there.
Jason was bigger, louder, cheekier and more aggressive - in short he was a boy. He would fare better in any fights on account of his size and weight advantage, and at the time was going through a phase of jumping on Milly for no reason and biting her. My heart just loved little Milly more and I thought of Jason as a problem cat, who if he were a boy, would surely have earned himself an ASBO or two by now and a ride home in a cop car.
On a Saturday night in April, the cats were 7 months old and had been going outside, using a cat flap since February. I always brought them in at night, locking the cat flap; and both cats were neutered, had ID tags and were micro-chipped. (just in case anyone’s judging me!)
My husband was at work so I was on my own and as it was Saturday night I was enjoying some wine while I was watching the TV (Yep, I really know how to live it up...) All evening both cats kept coming in and out. They were very much people cats and never stayed out for long. Every half hour, they would come in and miaow and want a fuss made of them. It was a fine evening so I let them stay out a bit later than usual and I was staying up a bit later than usual myself, as I didn't have to go to work the next day. At about 11.30pm I realised I hadn't seen the cats for a while so I went outside to get them in. I rattled their biscuit box which usually brings them running and sure enough Milly bounced into view over a fence. I gave her some biscuits, locked her inside and then went out to entice in Jason. I went down to the bottom of the garden and looked over the high fence into the back access lane where people’s garages were.
I discreetly called his name as it was the middle of the night and my neighbours wouldn't thank me for shouting. I rattled his biscuits but still no Jason. As I walked back up the garden path I could have kicked myself and I deeply regretted letting them out so late. What was I supposed to do now? It was very late, but I couldn't just go to bed and leave Jason to fend for himself. He was such a home cat and so young. There must be something wrong for him to disappear for so long. At this stage, ‘so long’ was actually only about two hours but I felt like the worst cat-owner in the world!
In the house I fretted whilst Milly cheerfully polished off some food and then rubbed herself against my legs purring loudly. I decided I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to Jason so I was going to go out and look for him. Putting on my coat and shoes, I left the house while making sure Milly stayed in.
I walked out of our close and decided that the best place to look was along all the back alleyways behind the houses. It was midnight, so you can appreciate that it was very dark in the alleyways and would have been scary except I was so worried about Jason, and possibly also because I was fortified by the sparkling wine I had consumed earlier. I wandered round the network of alleyways and onto the roads around our estate, thankfully not encountering anyone strange out and about. I would call his name a few times and then stop and listen for any meowing. After about 40 minutes I went back home, in the hope he would have returned (I had set the cat flap so he could get in but not out)
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| Milly was as happy as Larry (whoever he was) |
But at home there was still no Jason. I was really worried now, this was so unlike him. I sat making a fuss of Milly for a while and then I went out again. Widening my route, I continued to search - a feeling of desperation creeping in. He was nowhere to be found in the silent dark streets and I wandered around with increasing desperation. I went back home and then I repeated the whole thing a third time - this last one at 3.00am. Finally I decided it was time to call off the search for the night. I went to bed utterly miserable and full of guilt, letting Milly sleep upstairs with me. (Normally both cats sleep downstairs in the kitchen as they’re too lively to come upstairs when we’re trying to sleep)
I dozed off and when my husband came back at 4.30am, I sat up and explained what had happened. I expected him to be horrified and more than a little cross with me, as it had happened on my watch. He just said that was what young male cats do, they wander off for periods of time and I shouldn't worry. Telling me not to worry is a pointless exercise as its what I’m best at and I now have it down to a fine art! However I appreciated his calmness, as I know he loves those cats. He was only horrified that I had been wandering around in the dark on my own but I think he appreciated the lengths I would go to for Jason.
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