Missing

A little over 5 years ago I was asked if I would mind if Michelle was given a cat for her birthday. I wasn't overly keen on the idea but didn't want to be so mean as to say no.
A few days later we went to a house in Maryhill and picked up a long haired tabby kitten, which Michelle would later name Fudge.

I was completely uninterested in Fudge and went to the pub almost as soon as we brought her home. When I came in that night she was locked in our kitchen, scratching and mewing to get out. As soon as I opened the door she bolted right out and into the newly bought litter tray. That the little cat had been too proud the relieve herself on our newspaper covered kitchen floor duly impressed me and so I decided that shutting her in anywhere was counterproductive.

While I was happy not to keep her shut the kitchen I was determined that she would not be sleeping in the bedroom. No chance. Never.

At that time there was no latch on our bedroom door and so the only way to keep Fudge out was to block the door with my dumbbells. Obviously, if you have seen my massive arms, you can assume that these weights were far too heavy for a tiny baby kitten to move. In fact in order to get through a door blocked by these weights a tiny cat would have to fling herself repeatedly against the door in a single minded endeavour to do so; which is exactly what Fudge did.

Being the magnanimous person that I am (nothing to do with Fudge giving me no choice of course) I decided that she may sleep in the bedroom after all, in her own bed on the floor, never on our

bed. No chance. Never... Ah forget it!

Five years later and I now cannot settle in bed without Fudge at my feet. In fact when Fudge is in bed before me I will actually ease myself into bed so that I don't disturb her. I have indeed become a sad cat person.

At night she sometimes carries a little soft toy to bed in her mouth and sits and cleans it before she settles (something Michelle, a lifetime cat owner has never seen or heard of). In the morning she shouts impatiently as Michelle or I put out her breakfast. During the days and evenings she lays by our sides on the couch and whenever we leave a room Fudge is sure to quickly follow. Our little puppy cat. Our companion.

Fudge went missing just after 6pm on Tuesday 20th July. She is for the most part a house cat who never strays further than the grass outside our flat, for her to disappear is the last thing we ever expected. Since she's been gone I have walked the streets for hours searching, chapped on neighbours doors, phoned everyone that can be phoned and posted notices on surrounding bus stops. She hasn't eaten in 32 hours and the rain has rarely stopped coming down. There is little more we can do than wait at the point. All the while fearing that we may never stop waiting. That we may never see Fudge again. That she will always remain missing.

And yet, I cannot believe that. not Fudge. She may be timid but she is, as I have evidenced here, determined and single minded. If she is lost she will find her way home. If she has been taken she will escape. She will come home. I believe this. I have to believe this. I have to see my cat again. I have to see my Fudge again.