My stupid cat, Raoul

On Saturday night, we came home to the sobering news that our cat Raoul had run away.  The door was open for hours, it's hard to imagine him not giving in to the temptation of investigating new territory.  It was also very hard to imagine him navigating his way around well, or getting on with the thugy neighborhood cats.  We were worried.  I was too upset to look for pictures of him to make a Missing Cat poster, but I had put most of the text together in my head. 

Missing Cat
Probably won't respond to his name, Raoul.  Will come running for a can of beans- might kill you for smoked salmon.
Has pretty stripes that he likes to show off by rolling on his back and flicking his long tail as if he wanted to be pet, but this is just a cat trap- which he will spring in all pointiness on the first hand to enter the trap.
Not always nice to people, but too much of a sissy to be an outdoor cat.
Unlike other neighborhood thug cats, he has a long tail, still pointy ears, a neck, and is probably getting beat up by those tough, tail-less cats.  His favorite hiding places include the shower, under the covers and the middle of the floor.

My version was too wordy, fortunately Matt put out a nice version, which we posted on mailboxes.  He found a way to prop open our back door to 1 cat size (probably smaller than one fat racoon- probably).  We left food outside, and put out cat toys, which kept disappearing.  Our house was freezing from having the door open all the time, but Mom and Nana chugged tea and put up with our heartbreak.

I called a cat rescue shelter, that suggested I get a cat trap.  Since we had daily gasping disappointments seeing those local thug cats, I just knew a cat trap was going to result in mayhem.  I was mentally wondering how many feral cats I would be willing to spay before I gave up on the trap as I went to bed.

And then something crazy happened.

Well after midnight, we both woke up in confusion to tiny meows walking in to our bedroom.  My reaction times aren't great when I am "alert" so try to imagine me assessing this situation from a deep slumber.  "Cat?  Feral?  Mine?  Here?  Am I awake? My cat is here? "  He just sauntered in like we'd been gone on a long vacation and he couldn't find us in the house.

Matt grabbed him in his arms while I flew downstairs to close the door behind him and spring the cat trap (because we SO don't need any feral cats now).  He was filthy, a little skinny and hungry.  And thirsty.  But fine. He has a wicked case of the sneezes, and seems sleepier then the average cat, but he is much more willing to put up with me moving my legs underneath his nap.