The Queen Cat That Did

Because, I’m sleepy and because I don’t have the wherewithal…

originally written 2 weeks ago
Yesterday, at 8:45pm, my family discovered that the infamous Amelie was no where to be found.  I remembered her being inside in the morning because she fell asleep on my feet making me excessively hot. In turn, this caused me to haphazardly boot her off the bed when freeing my feet from the sweltering hell that is a tucked in sheet.

She also accompanied me in the bathroom, sat close by in my office while I ironed, and stared at me in the kitchen while I made my toast.  She’s a sneaky little gray cat with a heart of gold sharply accented with little razor talons (which she uses to torment our three dogs).  Almost nightly, she sneaks behind me on the couch, sits down, and proceeds to bathe my shaved head with her sandpaper tongue. As much as I find it disgusting, it perplexes the dogs and makes the girls laugh with shocked disgust..so I let her continue until I can’t handle dealing with my skin becoming raw.

So upon realizing that she wasn’t in any of her normal hiding places, I began to scour the places she shouldn’t be… The dryer, the bath tub, the toilet, the ceiling fan, the oven, the refrigerator…I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point. All four people in my household were running from room to room calling her name, throwing around her toys, and doing everything we could think of to attract her attention.

It took some time for the panic to set in, but I could feel it in my hands and feet in the way they tingled and hummed. I could feel my head start to swim like I was under water and couldn’t figure out which way was up. I looked at Laura and firmly stated “I’ll be f*****g damned if I let my cat push me into a panic attack.”

I promptly spent the next hour traipsing through every person’s yard in a 100 yard radius.  Tay had cat food and a spoon, Laura pointed her flashlight at every thing from gravel under cars to the stars in the sky. I went from crying to laughing to cursing to crying again.

No cat in her right mind would have came out of hiding to all the racket we were making. No wonder she stayed incognito.

I didn’t sleep that night. Every dream I had I’m sure had Sarah McLaughlin music playing behind it flashing pictures of abused abandoned animals. In my mind she was either dead, hurt, trapped, or scarred for life. She better thank her nine lives that my overactive bladder and angry kidneys woke me up at the “crack of dawn” (thanks for that phrase, Mom!) I used the bathroom and before heading back into the warmth of my cave like room, I ambled to the front door hoping she would be there.

That little hell cat. She just sat there perched on the porch and slowly turned around to me and meowed in a way that sounded like “hey crazy, fancy meeting you here!” I opened the door and she stood there and stared. Obviously this crazed feline heard me yelling, crying, begging her to come inside earlier in the night?  Yet now she was taking her sweet time coming in like it was the middle of a summer day and I didn’t need sleep to teach children the next day.

I scooped her up and proceeded to parade her around the house chanting “Guess who’s home?” Luckily for me, waking the girls in the wee hours of the morning for our prodigal cat daughter had come didn’t warrant the usual barrage of grumpiness accompanying other early morning wake ups. I tossed her on the bed and she was met with dog swats, human kisses, and the permission to sleep in the bed wherever she chose.

Why the hell did she choose my head as a nice place to rest?

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