Turned the computer on to post with tears in my eyes, and told myself not to start crying or I wouldn't stop, and I had too much I had to do.
Son is leaving on a school trip for the weekend, needs to go today, and we had a lot happening last night trying to find a functioning air mattress, sleeping bag, etc. We'd annoyed the cat earlier by brushing her, and I hadn't seen her the rest of the evening. I was going to bed, and asked my son if he'd let the cat outside. He hadn't, nor had I, and he said, "She's probably downstairs somewhere." She's started hanging out in hidey-holes, and doesn't always come when called, so I went to bed thinking she was safe. Awakened about 4:45 to check on the fire, realized she hadn't come to spend time with me in the night (highly unusual, but not unknown). She didn't turn up when I went downstairs to start the fire. Unheard of. Got the fire going, called her inside and outside. Every son often, I'd think I'd hear her--footsteps behind me, on the stairs, a little carpet scratch--my auditory hope was hypersensitive. Each time I looked, and no cat. Geared up and went outside to look around--moon is still up, so I could see.
Thought about how hard it was going to be to tell the kids. We've faced so many challenges in the last few years, and last year was really tough: daughter away at college, boiler going down, son rolled our only non-geriatric vehicle, insurance company totaled it and paid pennies on the dollar, bank gap insurance didn't cover the loss, son struggling with school, year from hell at work, knee giving me problems, getting badly burned on some wood deliveries, our old dog starting to limp so badly that her days are numbered--you know--some years are just tougher than others (I'm going to come back and edit out all this whiny stuff, but saying this just to put things in perspective). And I realized: she's our joy. She brings happiness when she comes to us, and we share enjoyment in spending time with her, play with her, laugh at her together. She's just been this goodness that walked into our lives unsought, and became part of the family. All she asked was a little food and a warm place to sleep, and somehow, unknowing, in the end I let her down.
It's warmed up outside--about 18 below--but still cold enough to kill a little cat who could slip outside unbeknownst when a door is opened--and because its warmed up, hungry things are afoot in the moonlight, looking for a warm meal. Kicked myself for not having looked around more last night--it was late, I was tired, and thought she was inside, but how hard would it have been to take one more look, stick my head outside and call one last time? Headed back to the house in tears, and sucked them back in, because I just can't start right now, and besides, my tears would freeze.
Came on here to post a requiem for a cat, tell you all how I had let her down--and as I pulled up the site, I heard an unmistakable, I-am-not-making-this-one-up noise. Got up, went to the laundry closet, opened the doors (had already looked there) and then opened the dryer. Dang cat. Better not scare me like that again. Sniff.
Now I really have to scramble. But just thought you all would get a kick out of this.
Murph is a blue blood, his Dad is a US & Australian champion (Hytymes Blue Jay). Murph is defective, however, according to the breed definition. He's got too much color for a show dog (he should be white, where he's brown). Fits right in with my colorful crew 
Then it was the "mega meld", like the one with Dr. McCoy 
