Lost and Found
I’ve been authorized by the Household Administration to release this public news story in conjunction with one or two Facebook posts:
We lost our Maine Coon cat, the one called Smudge.
Ultimately this will in fact be my fault, because: A) I am a man, and; B) Because.
Story: We’ve been pretty busy the past few days organizing shit to go on a road trip to Southwest Missouri and hang out with my Stepdad/Di’s Dad up until the 4th. Part of this manic activity was some of the house maintenance guys coming to lay down a chemical barrier to the Borg Onslaught (nod to Trekkies) of insects this summer. Anyway, lots of people have gone in and out of my house today. When Di called me at 1650 hours (4:50 PM Civilianese) today, I assumed it was a ploy to get me home marginally early prior to an Army 4-day weekend. Not true – Smudge, our Maine Coon Huge-Ass MegaCat (of previous blog here fame), had vanished.
I tore away from wrapping-up activity for the weekend in my office, and came home. Di was near tears… yeah, we kinda dig the Smudger. After I recapitulated Di’s six top-to-bottom inspections of every nook and cranny of our four-level Stairmaster (also of past blog), we concluded that three scenarios were possible:
Scenario One: Dixie (also of blog fame here) had got pissed off and bitch-slapped the cosmic hell out of Smudge and he was cowering somewhere we were not used to.
Scenario Two: Smudge had adventured somewhere and somehow, some way, had fallen/crawled/climbed/wegdged his huge ass into an interstitial space in our home. This was a possible outcome.
Scenario Three: (The Worst Case): Smudge had somehow escaped the doors and was living the free-range-cat life at large somewhere in between the Missouri River and the foothills of the Rockies (STFU: we have no idea how fast the little ‘tard can run… he’s a housecat).
So after my detailed military search of the house – and note this is after Di had run about five self-manned reconnaissance patrols of her own, we were considering a roving movement to contact outside on foot. Knowing my Lovely And Talented Spouse, this would have concluded somewhere between finding the retarded cat and dropping from exhaustion walking the sidewalks of Fort Leavenworth.
Did I mention we were set to hit the road tomorrow morning for SW Missou? And that our cousin is driving up from Amarillo to accompany us this weekend? Right, you see the implications here, I am sure.
Anyway, Di erupted from the house claiming she heard Smudge in the basement. After sitting patiently in the basement for close on to an hour while quietly sipping beer, I had no proof and will now forever be harangued about asking whether or not Di heard Smudge for real, or out of creative confabulation driven by emotion… shut up and just Google the words. It means I’m wrong.
Ultimately, Smudge was somehow trapped under the basement stairs. Yes, Honey, that means you were Right. Got it. Anyway, he somehow, some way, managed to work his way under the basement stairs and was trapped. At this point, The Smudge is fed, adjusted, and acting normally.
Just in case you all needed to know.