Boyfriend and I found a place to rent in the town where he works. We found it last week.
On Monday, he quickly decided he wanted out of the house this week. We took a trailer load of stuff today. Mom and I cleaned and unpacked everything labeled "kitchen". The upside, is minus a few random items, the new kitchen is clean and set up and ready to go. The downside is that the entire move is basically a cluster-fuck and it's driving me crazy.
I've been calling our utilities to get stuff set up, transferred, moved, and cancelled. Thank God for speaker phone.
Monday night, Boyfriend opened the sliding glass door to let some cool air in. This door has never had a screen door, even though we've asked the landlord for one.
Sometime Monday night, my beloved kitty, Miss Harriet, got curious and went outside. It was pouring down rain. My guess is she got spooked by something and she took off to hide. I spent an hour wandering the property looking for her. Mom came over and helped me do it all over again. We poked around in the ground cover, shrubs, trees, bushes, the barns, even got down on my hands and knees in the mud to look under barns/sheds, over-turned boats, etc . . . and yes, even everywhere in the house. We even drove around, looking for her . . . nothing by the side of the road.
I even took her plastic red food dish that I tap on when I want to feed her canned food by surprise. The tapping will usually bring her out from anywhere and she's ready to munch on her treat.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Tuesday night came and she still hadn't come around.
People kept telling me once it stopped raining, she'd come out of hiding.
It stopped and she hasn't.
I've checked with the neighbors. Nothing.
She's not an adventurous cat. She gets down low and hides when scared versus climbing (although she still has all of her claws, so she could climb if needed). I can't even imagine her leaving the yard. I know that if she could hear me hollering for her, she'd meow or yowl. And I hear nothing.
Not a single peep, meow, yowl, growl, hiss, scream. Nothing.
And that worries me most of all.
We are moving this week. I don't want to leave without her. Without knowing.
I have been crying for two days.
Miss Harriet has been one of my BFF's for ten years. She was a stray I took in that had been dumped at a pet store. She kept my lap and feet warm on cold winter days and nights. She purred in my ear, happy and content during the night. She let me cry into her fur when I was upset. I cajoled her after having been drugged for dentals or shaving. She politely followed me around the kitchen, quietly begging for canned food. Sometimes, not so quietly. She was my companion in my otherwise lonely apartments in Sacramento. She put up with me moving a lot recently and even became friends with Wyatt, our new kitten. She became more comfortable in the house and wasn't even upset about the recent packing. She had re-found her perch atop my recliner and was content in watching the kitten play with a string.
I severely miss my cat. She has been there for me for ten years and I her.
My heart aches.
My eyes burn.
Not knowing what may have happened or if she's hurt or scared and can't find her way back after the 24 hours of solid rain . . . that is the worst thing in the world.
I want my Harriet back. And I want her back NOW.
It is now Tuesday night. I have again walked the property, crawled around, called her name, her nickname, made kissing noises and looked everywhere.
People tell me their stories of how their cat went missing for a couple days then showed back up. I hope that happens. I want her back more than words can say.
How is it that silence is deafening? Because it is.