We all figured, best let him hide out until he's chilled out.
Then, when I came home from my museum trip a few minutes ago, he came to the top of the basement stairs for dinner!
Everything's gonna be OOOOK now.
Except for the fact that Coco's all in a frenzy again about, ya know, our new addition. Poor Princess is feeling threatened and needs to poop in ALL the litter boxes because, of course, ALL poop receptacles belong to HER.
She'll need a lot of extra love and, probably, a mess of tuna BUT she'll get through this. Not sure that TAB and I will but her and Rocco'll be fine. Eventually.
61º Fahrenheit and rainy in Scotland today. Well, that’s in Edinburgh — weather.com won’t give me the forecast for Portree on the Isle of Skye or Stromness on the Orkney mainland. Bastids.
About the same for my pal Brenda in Dublin.
61º but sunny for Brian buddy in New South Wales.
Martin in London will have 71º and sun.
Della in Berlin gets 74º and rain.
Sunny and 88º for Giovanni’s drummer fratello, Raffaello in Galatina, down in the heel of Italy. Silvano, up north of Venice in Lancenigo will have 81º and sun.
And a brutal 95º with thunder showers for my Helen and fam who’re temporarily in Dallas.
Here in Valhalla it’ll be 71º sunny and, so far, no sign of Rocco. Our magnificent but mebbe a little crazy furry man zipped inside yesterday — I mentioned that. He seemed disinclined to go out. That is, there was no sitting at the door giving me the guilt look and no scratching at window screens. He ate, napped, happily accepted his skritches and pats and looked around.
|Rocco on the windowsill|
Dove? Wohin? Où? And a rousing, WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO?!
The Amazing Bob and I have explored our closets, behind and under furniture, we’ve scouted around our basement and the “secret” passageway between our cellar and Jen and Oni’s.
We’ve called for him both inside our wee cottage and out.
No sign of the poor boy.
I’m afraid he’s gotten himself trapped somewhere but where? There just aren’t that many places to hide or get stuck in this joint. All our window screens are intact so it seems unlikely that he got out.
Did he evaporate? Become smoke? Was there a Kitty Rapture and, well, Coco and Gus are still here so I guess not all cats go to heaven? Has he become a specter who will haunt my dreams?
Yeah, I’m more than a little worried. I leave for work soon and then an afternoon of museuming and lunch with an old friend up in Lowell. I’m gonna stick with this plan because it’s not gonna do me any good at all to stay home fussing and searching all the same places I’ve already looked in 12 damn times.
Cats — they make me 68 kinds of flourescent, fruit bat-feces deranged. And I can’t get enough of them.