We haven’t seen Lucy since Saturday afternoon. She was lying on the curb in front of our house, kind of a strange place for her to be hanging out, but when we pulled up in the car she got up and ran off in perfectly normal cat-like fashion.
But we haven’t seen her since, and here it is Tuesday afternoon. That’s three days. This is the longest she’s ever gone missing, and it’s making us rather nervous and sad.
We adopted Lucy and Bilal just a month or two after we moved to New Orleans, back in 1999. Here’s a picture of the two of them as kittens, at our apartment in the Warehouse District:
But Lucy was my favorite. Is my favorite. I’m already using past tense, but I shouldn’t. She could very well still be alive. Cats freak out and hide. It’s what they do. Bilal disappeared for ten days once. Folds went in hiding under Xy’s parents’ house in Bloomington during our evacuation and stayed hidden for a whole month. And since we’ve gotten back to New Orleans, Lucy’s been ranging farther afield, prowling through abandoned houses and generally getting a little wilder. Over the last few days there’s a been a lot of noisy activity in the neighborhood. Maybe it’s spooked her.
Anyway, as I was saying: Lucy is my favorite of all our cats, and she always has been. She’s intelligent, playful, friendly and a good mouser.
Please come home, Lucy. Your mom and dad are worried. It would break my heart to lose you. I really couldn’t take it.
(Damn, just thinking about this has got me so broken up I had to shut the door to my office and get out a handkerchief.)