Pie Bear, you'll remember, is our big fat black cat, currently our only companion animal. He normally spends the last part of the night on our bed and wakes us up before the twins do, wanting his breakfast (so as to get even fatter). But that morning there was no sign of him.
Immediately RB and I were panic stricken. Pie Bear has a cat door to the garage and a hole in the garage wall leading to the front yard. He wanders in and out during the night, interacting with other cats and who knows what else. Anything could have happened to him. A car could have run him over. A coyote could have eaten him (though it would have to be a pretty ambitious coyote).
We looked under the bed and in the closet and on all the various chairs and sofas where he likes to sleep. No Pie Bear.
I put on my shoes and went out to see if his enormous black body was lying dead in the street. The twins went with me as we walked up and down the street. No Pie Bear, though we did find a garage sale.
When we got home again, Rocket Boy was in the backyard, where there is a locked gate leading to a sort of alley. He had taken the gate's hinges off and was exploring the alley. But no Pie Bear.
Rocket Boy was ready to take action. "I'm going to talk to the neighbors," he said.
"Wait," I said. "Let me make a flyer."
"OK, you do that, and I'll call the animal shelter." I hastily put together a Lost Cat flyer, while Rocket Boy phoned. However, it was only a little after 9 am and the shelter didn't open until 10. So, taking some flyers, he went out to tape them to things and talk to people.
"Be sure to ask the people having the garage sale," I told him.
"Why didn't you ask them?"
"I was shy."
Shaking his head, he grabbed his wallet and went out.
A while later he came back to drop off the items he'd purchased at the garage sale, to get more flyers, and to report on his progress. He'd met several neighbors to the east of us and given them copies of the flyer. No one had seen Pie Bear recently, in fact no one had EVER seen Pie Bear, but they promised to watch for him.
"Why don't you call the shelter again," I suggested. It was just after 10 am. So he called them and explained our plight. "Yes, a male cat, black with just one tiny white spot under his chin, about 20 pounds." The person at the shelter said they'd keep an eye out for him.
Rocket Boy went out to post more flyers and meet the neighbors to the west of us.
Finally he returned, having met and told at least eight of our neighbors. "I don't know what else I can do," he said in despair. "We shouldn't have moved to Ridgecrest. First Whiskers dies and now Pie. It's just not worth it!"
Just then, Pie Bear emerged from the guest room, yawning and stretching.
Screams, swearing. With great effort I picked Pie up and hugged him.
I took down the flyers and called the shelter, but I made Rocket Boy tell all the neighbors. At least now everyone knows us, though their opinion of us may not be very high.
On Monday, as it happened, Pie Bear had his yearly vet appointment. He now weighs 22 pounds.
My comment: Where ARE you?
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