I had quite a traumatic week this week. Now, this might sound particularly dramatic, especially in light of what actually happened, and perhaps I did over react and perhaps I did completely freak for no reason, and perhaps it was a bit much calling my mum and sister in floods of tears in the middle of the night, but you see, My Cat Went Missing. This is where collectively you all roll your eyes and stop reading, mutter that I am pathetic and damn me for acting like a stereotypical 'girl.' The worst thing is, I am in complete agreement! Having prided myself on being independent, resourceful and just plain Sensible, I actually shocked myself as to the state I managed to work myself up into over relatively nothing. Let me tell you what happened.
I have recently started a new job which I am enjoying greatly, but I am finding at the end of the day that I am positively exhausted. Now, as my boyfriend works long, funny hours, I always try to wait up for him so we can spend some time together before we head to bed. This usually involves us watching a film, or- more recently- watching Ashes to Ashes (absolutely amazing!) The thing is, I keep falling into a coma five minutes into whatever we are watching and end up sleeping on the sofa for a good few hours before he shakes me awake and I sort of sleep walk up to the bedroom, not really paying attention to anything. So, on this particular night I trudged up to bed and left boyfriend downstairs faffing about, playing his xbox. All seemed well. He came to bed later, left for work early and I enjoyed a well deserved sleep-in as it happened to be a Sunday.
At about 10.30, I was set up in front of the tv, catching up on shows I had missed during the week and generally ready for an incredibly lazy day when all of a sudden I realised that I hadn't seen my cat since the previous day and he hadn't come into the bedroom overnight to play tag with my feet whilst I was sleeping. Naturally, I had a look about the house, couldn't find the toe rag and figured that he was hiding someplace, probably destroying some important paperwork or ripping apart my favourite knitted cardigan, 'oooh! wool!'
By midday I was getting worried, as Ferris is generally quote reliable in making an appearance- not to say hi or anything, but to bug me to give him some food. After another search, one a bit more extensive than the last, I finally had to include that the cat was not in the house.
Now, at this point I have to point out, if you haven't already realised, Ferris is a very pampered house cat. I have plans to let him out very soon, but as yet haven't had him neutered and haven't had him chipped, just because I have been completely broke and as yet there hasn't been a need. Before you berate me (believe me, I have done this to myself enough) I realise this is irresponsible but I promise I am not neglecting my cat. I am getting Ferris sorted to go out as soon as I can afford it, which will be very soon- this was planned way before The Great Escape, not something I realised mid panic.
So, Ferris had finally managed to slip past us. I concluded that this must have happened when Jay had gone outside to smoke and once again not paid attention to the fact he left the door open. I had not picked up on this as I usually do as- yup- I had passed out and had already trudged upstairs.
I have to say, I kept it together at this point. I kept it together when he didn't come home that night. I even kept it together when he didn't come home the next day. I did not keep it together when he did not come home the next night. Visions of him being stuck / run over / lost / starving or even embroiled in territory wars gang style plagued me. Plus, it was soo cold! Yes, I get that he left the house wearing a very dashing fur coat and was essentially wrapped up nice and warm but the idea of him freezing to death led me to the aforementioned breakdown. It was kind of humiliating.
Luckily, Ferris wandered home the next day and jumped through the open livingroom window. I had literally just got off the phone from my mum and was about to call every vet in a 100 mile radius when I went into the kitchen to see him casual-as-you-like eating some food and looking like nothing had ever happened. I could have killed the little vagabond, after I had finished hugging him to death that is.
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| Looking a bit sheepish after his return |
I guess what I want to ask is, am I the only one who gets like this? Or am in in real and immediate danger of becoming The Crazy Cat Lady?
Please God, No.
