The Cat That Almost Earned A Tombstone On A Cool Morning

This is the third time I've sat down to write something this morning. The first time was going to be all about how I'm really not a morning person, but when the weather is cool and sunny and not a drop of humidity in the air, my coffee cup and I turn into definite morning material. I read a fellow blogger's entry about Decoration Day, however, and my mind drifted to the days of driving my grandma around so she could decorate her own designated graves. I remember one time driving her about forty-five miles or so with three little kids in the back seat on a hot, May weekday. As she pulled weeds and place flowers in mason jars, she talked of days gone by. I figured those stories would make a good entry, but before I could write anything, I had to get up for a kleenex (you know how thinking back always makes me cry), and that's when I noticed the cat was gone.

Vanished. Off the porch. Not in his usual spot.

You see, Old Man Cat is clawless on his front paws. He's been a pampered indoor cat all his life and as much as he would like to think he could tame the wild, I'm fairly certain he would lose dreadfully on his first go-round with any other four-legged creature, squirrels included. He loves the front porch, though. The back porch is screened-in with a cat's eye view of the little garden pond below that attracts all sorts of birds and the ever-present squirrels of the neighborhood and if all else fails, he will sit out there and contemplate his next move. But, if I'm on the front porch, forget it. He would much rather be there (and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with me). I think he likes the wide-open feel... nothing to hold him back but the crazy lady who keeps telling him no.

He will usually sit beside me on the swing if he's not stretched out in a luxurious manner in front of me. If that's not to his liking, he'll creep across the porch and try out the sunshine by the rocking chairs. I can always look up from what I'm reading and spot the fur ball on the first- sometimes second- glance. Every now and then, however, he'll pull a fast one on me and slip away. It's those times that my heart will skip a beat or two and my coffee no longer tastes good. That's exactly what happened this morning. That turkey was off the steps before I ever knew he was thinking about it.

So there I was... the funny-looking neighbor lady in a pink, fluffy robe and brown flip-flops wandering the yard calling his name. I looked under the front porch, back porch, and shed porch (we have a lot of porches around here). I knew if I sounded angry he might hunker down and wait it out a while, so I used my sweetest here kitty, kitty voice. I listened to myself and felt something akin to pity- I've got it bad for this cat. The oldest joined me in the search and much to my relief, I finally heard, He's here, Mom. I walked back around front and there he was perched up on the porch like he had done nothing wrong. A quick look under his belly gave him away, though. You don't pick up sand, pine straw, and dry leaves from lounging in the sunshine.

The cat is back inside, the oldest is gone, and my coffee is cold.
And I'm gonna log off for the day before something else comes along.
Mornings, tombstones, and a lost cat. Maybe now that title makes a little more sense. =)