I suppose I felt that I had some unfinished business left in Stoughton. Yesterday's quick dash to check if indeed the missing cat was hanging out by the school building seemed incomplete. If she was that close to her point of escape (just about four blocks away), then clearly she isn't straying far. We should canvas the neighborhood more thoroughly.
It's cooler today. Say good bye to summer dresses. Too, I hate to say it, but the garden is drying up again. Well, never mind. We're likely to have frost one of these nights. After that, it's a mad dash to the end of the growing season.
For now, things still look, well, nicely autumnal.
And it's just warm enough for cheepers to enjoy a sun dappled rest under the lilac...
... and for us to set our breakfast on the porch. Ed is at a new place at the table. Dance has taken possession of his usual chair. No, he will not move a cat to make himself more comfortable.
And then we drive back to Stoughton, where we walk up and down all the blocks around the school where the kittie was allegedly spotted yesterday. I call for her. I ask if people have seen a cat.
No luck.
I offer no photos of the walk. It's a suburban neighborhood and it looks like any other suburban neighborhood in America, displayin some houses you like, others -- less so. We do find the people we ask about the missing kitten to be uniformly helpful. They want to aid in finding her. They take my phone number, offer to put out food for her (happy eating, oh raccoons of Stoughton!), ask after her name. I appreciate that. It feels good to be treated kindly and not like the nut that you are, walking up and down blocks every day, shouting out "kittie" in a high pitched voice (this particular cat always responded to that high pitched squeal back at the farmette).
I suppose we're letting go of the search, albeit slowly. If someone calls with news of her, we'll go out again. But random walks and calls seem increasingly pointless. Even as we can't seem to give up. What if she is just a block or two from where we walked??
In a bit of good news, the sister cat, whom we called Calico but the new owner is calling Gigi, is integrating well in her new home. I've heard words such as "she is really sweet" and they warm my heart.
No late night escapades tonight. No hurried searches, no frantic driving into a foggy night. Just reheated leftovers and a sweetly calm evening at home.
It's cooler today. Say good bye to summer dresses. Too, I hate to say it, but the garden is drying up again. Well, never mind. We're likely to have frost one of these nights. After that, it's a mad dash to the end of the growing season.
For now, things still look, well, nicely autumnal.
And it's just warm enough for cheepers to enjoy a sun dappled rest under the lilac...
... and for us to set our breakfast on the porch. Ed is at a new place at the table. Dance has taken possession of his usual chair. No, he will not move a cat to make himself more comfortable.
And then we drive back to Stoughton, where we walk up and down all the blocks around the school where the kittie was allegedly spotted yesterday. I call for her. I ask if people have seen a cat.
No luck.
I offer no photos of the walk. It's a suburban neighborhood and it looks like any other suburban neighborhood in America, displayin some houses you like, others -- less so. We do find the people we ask about the missing kitten to be uniformly helpful. They want to aid in finding her. They take my phone number, offer to put out food for her (happy eating, oh raccoons of Stoughton!), ask after her name. I appreciate that. It feels good to be treated kindly and not like the nut that you are, walking up and down blocks every day, shouting out "kittie" in a high pitched voice (this particular cat always responded to that high pitched squeal back at the farmette).
I suppose we're letting go of the search, albeit slowly. If someone calls with news of her, we'll go out again. But random walks and calls seem increasingly pointless. Even as we can't seem to give up. What if she is just a block or two from where we walked??
In a bit of good news, the sister cat, whom we called Calico but the new owner is calling Gigi, is integrating well in her new home. I've heard words such as "she is really sweet" and they warm my heart.
No late night escapades tonight. No hurried searches, no frantic driving into a foggy night. Just reheated leftovers and a sweetly calm evening at home.
