Lucifer went missing tonight.
It was dinner time. I put out his wet food at 6.30 as per usual. I called him. He didn't come. I tapped on a can of baked beans. He didn't come. He's not the most food-driven of beasts, but he normally comes out for his wet food, tail upright and vibrating.
Not tonight.
He's spent half of the afternoon snuggled up to me. I took a half day as I'm being kicked around by jetlag and I'm no use to anybody. This gave me some time and space to sleep and do the washing. I had a bag full of clothes that smelled like feet, so I was up and down to the clothesline a few times.
And I slept for most of the afternoon.
But he didn't come out for his dinner.
I called him. Silence.
I looked in all of his favourite hiding places. Nothing.
And then I saw the door was open and the screen door was off the latch. Shit!
I went up and down the stairs, looking. Thankfully the stairwell door was shut. But no sign of the cat.
I went out shut the door and had a look around the flats, calling first by his name, then by his dead name (Reggie - a name he will respond to on occasion) Zip. Nada.
I cancelled my online personal training session. I was too distraught.
He's never been outside unless he's in his carrier. He's never see a car outside his car carrier. He's unfriendly and probably has no road sense.
I was in a state.
I checked the flat again, then the stairwell, then another lap of outside.
An hour later, I flopped down on my bed, crying and exhausted. Should I knock at the neighbours, see if they'd seen him. Should I put notes up around the flats? Should I call the RSPCA? He'd probably only been gone an hour, but I've not felt fear like this ever. It's like losing a child at a shopping centre.
So, I lay crying on my bed with worry and fear.
And the cretin walks out of the cupboard.
He's fine. He was in the cupboard.
Little prick.
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