Stash the stray is slowly being incorporated into our family household, but it's taking a little adjustment. And patience.
Last week was a doozy in Stashie-land.
Last Wednesday, I put him out since I had to go to work. Since he's still new to tha family, I don't want to leave him and the dog alone for any length of time. Supervision is key, right? Anyway, when I left, he was sunning himself in the mulch in the front garden.
Came home around 1:15 pm, didn't see him, but didn't start to worry until dinner time. I took his food outside and rattled the bowl (which usually brings him RUNNING.) Nada. No Stash all evening.
Ok, not to panic. He had stayed away for a day at a time before, but he was usually back by breakfast time. I decided to wait until breakfast time on Thursday to panic.
No Stashie Thursday morning. Panic mode ON! :(
What with all the stray dogs, speeding cars, and coyotes we see around here, cats are taking their lives in their paws any time they step across the street. Of course, my mind just wouldn't let go of the gory images I was imagining.
I cried off and on all Thursday.
DH kindly refrained from an "I told you so..." but I knew he was thinking it.
When I drove up to the house Thursday afternoon after work, and there was no Stash sitting by the front door, I pretty much gave it up as a lost cause. :(
Later that evening, I went into the garage to get some meat out of the freezer for dinner. As I shut the door, I could have SWORN I heard, "Meow!" I looked around, didn't see anything. Then, another "Meow!" I couldn't figure out where it was coming from until I looked.... up. And saw a little black and white head peeking out of the attic opening. Stash was in the attic above the garage!
There is only one way into the attic -- via a ladder. We had left the ladder standing up after I got Halloween decorations down. He must have climbed the ladder and gotten into the attic, but then couldn't climb back down!
Apparently, Stash is a stoic man who won't cry or yell. My last dear kitty, Soco, was like that, too. Soco would get locked in the closet and wouldn't say a thing until she heard you pass by the door, and then clear her throat with a tiny little "meow", as if to say, "Um, excuse me, could you possibly see your way to opening the door?"
Anywho, poor guy was up there at least 24 hours. Once I got him down, he ate like a horse, ran outside to pee (probably held it the whole time, but I have to go up there later and check -- eww) and came right back in the house. He was skittish all evening. Who can blame him?
Remind me again why I love animals???