A Cat Tale (Tail?)

I’m slow getting started this morning and it’s all because of a cat. I love cats. Always have. There’s something about those murder floofs that calls to me. I blame my parents. I grew up in a home where we always had dogs and cats. Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m the one who first started the family with cats. I was maybe two or three when I “adopted” an alley cat that hung out near my babysitter’s. She was fine with me keeping the cat at her house until the cat showed up pregnant. A conversation was had with my parents and shortly after, said pregnant cat was shifted to our house, becoming the first in a long line of cats who owned us.

The latest feline member of the family is Tugger. Like all but one of a couple of cats over the years, he’s a rescue. Even though the group I got him from didn’t say it, I suspect he was feral when they took him in as a kitten. Between some rather odd personality quirks and the notched ear, the indications all point to that being the case. Even so, he is my cat.

All the way down to him following me around like a dog and sleeping with me at night.

When I realized I hadn’t seen him for several hours last night, I wasn’t too worried. That time of evening, he often sacks out on either the foot of Mom’s bed as he waits for her to turn in for the night or he’s already settled in my room to wait for me. Still, being a well-trained hooman, I went to check.

And couldn’t find him.

I still didn’t worry too much. After all, he’s a cat. He exists to vex me.

But when he didn’t show up for dinner, my concern started growing. Not even gooshy food brought him out.

I started wondering if he might have gotten locked in a closet or, idiot that he is, if he managed to open a cabinet door and then got himself locked inside. Nope. Not in any of those places.

Not under the beds or other pieces of furniture.

He doesn’t go outside, so I doubted he managed to slip by me when I let the dog in or out. Still, I checked. Just like I checked the garage to make sure he hadn’t managed to find his way out there.


Finally, around 1030, I thought of one other place to look. It’s a hidey hole one of the not our cats uses when they stay with us while their hoomans are traveling. There he was. But he was “off”. He didn’t react much when I found him. None of the usual talking and demands for pet. When I lifted him out of the hidey hole, he voiced none of the displeasure I expected. Even more telling, when I carried him into the family room, he didn’t fight me. That’s more than a little unusual. He isn’t a cat who likes to be carried more than a few steps.

He’s all right–I think. At least he’s better this morning. But he’s still not himself. His appetite is off, even for gooshy food. I stretched out a short time ago for a quick nap (hey, I didn’t sleep well last night worrying about him) and he slept of the bed with me but he wasn’t sleeping ON me like he usually does.

So I’m still a little worried but not as much. Right now, he’s sitting on my drafting table and he did demand so loving when I opened the drapes. I’m hoping he just had a bad evening. For now, I’m keeping an eye on him, feeling a little stupid for being so worried but he’s one of my fur babies.

Here’s hoping he’s all right. Fingers crossed.

(and, yes, if he doesn’t perk up soon, he has a trip to the vet’s in his future.)


Featured image created using Midjourney AI.


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