Where there’s a will …

Winston usually gives us a shy greeting at the door when we arrive home from work. He hangs back a foot or two behind Abe, who jumps up and down as if he has just won the lottery. Today, Winston didn’t greet us. For a moment, I didn’t think anything about it, but then I heard the weakest of meows. I yanked open the door of the coat closet, certain that we must have locked him in there again. Nope.

“Winston!” I called. Greg started looking, too. I raced upstairs, trying to retrace my path from the morning. I checked the laundry room and then our closet, anyplace where he might be sequestered. Greg checked all the rooms and hiding spots on the first floor.

“Greg, I swear I heard a meow,” I shouted, desperate. “Where is he? He’s stuck someplace around here.”

“I found him!” Greg said. I heard the back door open and close.

How did he get outside? We spent a couple minutes thinking. I was sure, of course, that this had to be Greg’s fault, but a few moments later I had a dark realization. I think I let Winston out this morning. It wasn’t intentional. I had taken Abe on a walk down the street to check our mail, and when we returned, Winston escaped. Between juggling Abe, the bag of his “business,” and the mail, I forgot to go back out and nab Winston. I think I mentioned to Greg that Winston had run out the door, but Greg didn’t hear me.

Our uber-fuzzy, overweight kitty spent 10 hours out in the Texas heat. I should probably be on my knees praying now instead of writing, praying that I don’t get banished to cat hell for being such an awful mother. Giant cats will force me to eat dry, turkey-flavored kibbles for all eternity. Winston drank a whole dish of water when he got back inside. He looks like he’s been wondering through the Sahara for days.

The best part of the whole fiasco is that Greg found Winston at the back door, but Winston escaped out the front door this morning. We have a six-foot wooden privacy fence around our backyard and a chubby cat with no claws. We don’t think Winston could have squeezed under the fence, which means he jumped to the top of it??!! Is that possible?

Winston is taking the ordeal in stride. When I opened the back door this evening to let Abe out, Winston ran right back out. I dragged him back in this time.