Don Piano, our beloved cat, is missing.
Last week while we were on vacation, our niece Jessica was kind enough to house sit for us and take care of Don Piano and Tessie (the dog). Both animals were fine and happy to see us when we returned last Friday evening. Monday evening, Don Piano walked out the front door for his evening romp (like he does on a daily basis), but didn’t come back. It’s actually not unusual for us not to see Don Don for up to half a day, but he’s never been gone for an entire day. Today’s day three.
Yesterday we called the Yukon pound (which is 4 miles from our house) and were told that since technically we are in Oklahoma City, we would need to visit the Oklahoma City pound instead (which is 20 miles from our house). We drove to the pound and … ugh, what a terrible experience. We spent 20 minutes walking around, peering in glass rooms full of cats, looking for the one that might be ours — all while getting meowed at loudly by cats (baby kittens, mostly). It’s amazing how, when you’re desperate to find your kids’ pet, how similar all black cats start to look.
Don Piano wasn’t there. We called the Yukon pound again to double check and were told that all they had were kittens and two grey cats, but no adult black ones.
Last night we printed up “LOST KITTY” posters and Mason and Susan passed them around the neighborhood. Hopefully, he’ll turn up soon. I’m “one part” sad because the cat’s missing, and “ten parts” sad because the kids are sad.
I am sorry to here that. I have a cat too. She is almost eight years old.
Mason and Morgan need to be strong, and hope for the best. :)
Now you know why, every time my son’s cat races out the door, I spend two minutes cursing his name and his ancestry, and an hour tracking his stupid furry butt down.
Hopefully he’s just been next door playing Make Trax and will come home ASAP.
Awww…hope he comes back!!! I’m guessing you already know I’m a kitty person after my angst filled Facebook week. :)
Aww, I hope he comes back home. I was worried when Captain Jack Sparrow didn’t come back one night. The next thing you know, there he was pawing at the patio window.