Thursday, January 3, 2013

Has anyone seen this cat?

Seriously, anyone? Anywhere? Because we haven't. For nearly a month.

I don't know exactly when the cat who is old enough to drive slid into the darkness of the night unauthorized, but he did. Powder, the very large, very white cat slipped out of the house and hasn't returned.

For nearly a month.

We know what it means, and when I say "we" I do include Alexis, but how do you grieve a very old (seriously -- he was born in 1995), very particular cat who could very well suddenly show up on the porch, pissed off that you left a door open wide enough for him to run through it?

For the record, Powder's method for dealing with his feelings when he's pissed off is to, well, piss on. Literally. He pees on things like dirty clothes left on a floor or rugs or curtains when he's mad at us.

How do you grieve a cat who has spent the past three years mad? I should confess that he has been justifiably mad for three years. First we moved, then he lost his best friend who he had been with his entire life, somewhere in there new puppies invaded and sucked the joy out of his life, and I won't even bother to mention his feelings about new cats who were not Coal. He tolerated Max and Ali, but it was that sort of tolerated that you expect from a grandfather who sits on his porch and pauses for a second before wailing "Get off my lawn, you whippersnappers!" as he waves his cane in the air.

So Powder is gone and we don't know whether we should be sad or scared that he will return and make us pay for our sins.

It really could go either way.

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