Cat’s are not like dogs, in fact they are so much like well… cats. At least you can stand there and call a dog back, and have some hope of it responding. It won’t be interested in returning but at least it will acknowledge that you called it before loping off into the neighbours yard. We should have known something was up in the Boo’s furry little brain when he started being intent on inspecting the front door every time it was open. We started small, allowing him to step into the patch of sunshine out front, carefully watching him sniff the foundation and calling him back if he ventured further then a few feet away from us.
He was toying with our minds like a cat plays with a mouse. Setting us up for his great escape. Making us think that he was perfectly happy just staying in the yard, and knowing his boundaries. Yesterday I let him outside the front door, like I do when I sweep the porch, and then I watched as he slunk around the corner towards the neighbours house. As I hurried over towards him, he merely stuck his tail up in the air, and darted across the adjoining lawn. Then he was gone.
“BOOT’S, BOO. BOOOOOTTTSSSIIEEE.” Dang, he was gone out of sight. That’s a $2000.00 kitty gone like a flash I thought to myself. And I love him dearly, but when I find him… agh. [His vet bills are always so high, so we always refer to him as our expensive cat, and yes it was over $2000.00.] Running back into the house to get the magic can of cat food, and spoon which always works as a dinner bell in the house, I searched for him in the neighbours front yard. Nothing… no black fur ball hiding out there, nothing under the vehicles. I would have to approach the neighbours houses and knock on their doors. I was reluctant to meet them this way but… I knocked, can of cat food held up high in one hand, empty spoon in the other, this wasn’t how I had planned on meeting them “Hi, um… I’m your neighbour, my cat is in your yard do you mind if I take a look?” The very large black dog that regularly poops in my yard tried to nose his way out the door towards me, and the neighbour looked friendly enough, but harried. “No problem, he said”
Feeling foolish I scouted through at least two back yards calling “Boooooottts come back.” I am dressed in hot pink garden clogs, black pants, and a dark brown down fill with a huge rip in the front from the last Boo escape. No sign of him anywhere, but then a small frightened flash of black out from near the fence that surrounded our yard. There he was, finally. Intelligent enough to try and get back to his own yard, just on the wrong side of the fence.
“Oh Boo, once again you know you are never getting out right?” He merely meows and head bumps me. Well at least meeting the neighbours is off of my list.