1. The prequel 2. Mr. Cat's first appearance 3. So says Mr. Cat 4. Seeking Mr. Cat
It has almost been a month since Mr. Cat was part of our lives. In all, Mr. Cat was with us for six weeks, from just before Thanksgiving to right after New Year's Day. We really couldn't have asked for a better Christmas gift than his presence.
Okay, I won't leave you hanging about the half-naked man with which I ended the story last Thursday. Unlike fictional stories that would introduce such a minor character, nothing happened. Short and simple, the true scene played out as such. "Is that your cat?" I asked, pointing to grey cat beneath the bushes. "Yes," he said, nonplussed, as if every morning he opened the door shirtless to answer an old lady about his cat. That cat which, by the way, quickly ran into his house. "Sorry," I said, thinking that I would not be riding my bicycle down that street for awhile.
Go ahead, laugh. I do. The husband does. In particular, we laugh at the image of me, an old, chunky lady pedaling her pink bicycle through the neighborhood shouting, "Mr. Cat! Mr. Cat...Kit, Kit!....Meow, Meow!" It is hilarious, if not sometimes pathetic. Actually, the whole tale of Mr. Cat is once you know how it finally ends.
On the ninth day of Mr. Cat's disappearance, the husband and I finally forced ourselves out of the house to do errands. As I swung the car out of the driveway, I noticed neighbors standing on the corner across the street who I had yet to ask. Among them was the blonde-haired woman who once upon-a-time we had seen Mr. Cat follow down the street.
"Excuse me," I called from the car. "Have you seen a grey cat with a tiny white spot on his chest?"
"That's my cat," said the blonde-haired woman in surprise.
"Is he with you?"
I felt relief instantly, followed by disappointment.
"He had been hanging out at our house. When he stopped showing up, we got worried."
"So that's where he had been," she said laughing.
The night Mr. Cat disappeared was the night that she moved from the neighborhood. We had no idea she had been still living on the street.
So, there you go.
Ah, Mr. Cat, such a con artist. We love him anyway.
It was a good thing we hadn't had the chance to take him to the vet to get neutered.