I have given up looking for my cat. It's up to her, now. to make it back home.
The phone calls have slowed as well. It's lovely that people are concerned, and want to help, so they call the number on the fliers I posted. What's difficult is that the information they have has not helped me find my cat.
I've gotten a wide range of calls. Yesterday, a woman named Victoria told me she had a cat that looked just like Lindy, and did I want her because her landlady found out about her cat and is forcing her to get rid of it. No, I don't want your cat. I want my cat back. "A perfect little set of bookends" she called them. Really?
Lots of people have seen Lindy, but it turns out there's a lookalike cat on Hugo Street, and a set of four strays, two of which are gray. Hugo is a good street for cats - dimly lit, quiet, and full of dark corners to hide in. The calls served to raise and dash my hopes, so I'm glad they've stopped. The last one made me cry. The woman said, I'm looking at your cat right now. She's sitting and cleaning herself.
The happy news is my friends adopted a cat this weekend. So we're all becoming kitty parents. I'll give Lindy a few months. After that, if she returns, she may have a roommate.
Be well and happy, laugh and love, and don't forget to tuck your kitty in at night.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Lost my cat
It's been a bad week. And I was on vacation.
It started out well enough. I spent the 4th in Santa Cruz with dear friends and their dear friends, singing the Star-Spangled Banner from the garage rooftop, watching amateur fireworks lit on the beach. Then it was down for a restful visit to the Tassajara Zen monastery in Carmel Valley. The weather was hot -- just like real summer - and there were cold plunges in the river, hiking to the windcaves, and hot tubs in the evening. Bliss.
Then I got home, and my world got complicated.
My cat Lindy is 4 years old and has lived with me the past two. She's cute, gray, fluffy, a medium-haired American cat with an attitude and heaps of charm. She's got four white paws -- "her go-go boots" my old neighbor used to call them -- and a "tuxedo", a goatee and bib in white. She likes to survey her domain from atop the steps. She likes to sleep on top of the armoire where the TV is stored. Or curled up in a little ball on the square of blanket on my bed. Or in her Scratch Lounge bed, with a good view of the stairs to eye any interlopers. Lindy ruled the roost, the 4th roommate who could get us all to do her bidding without saying a word.
There's still some hope she'll return. My neighbors -- who I'm talking to for the first time -- are all optimistic. I've put up fliers, and taped them to the sidewalk. I've followed up on leads, biking through Golden Gate Park at 5am, calling the cat. Lee called in response to the flier, told me about Lurline street, choc full of cats. I get 2-3 calls a day of people trying to help.
It's like that song, the cat came back, the very next day... I hope Lindy can return to us. The house isn't the same without her here.
It started out well enough. I spent the 4th in Santa Cruz with dear friends and their dear friends, singing the Star-Spangled Banner from the garage rooftop, watching amateur fireworks lit on the beach. Then it was down for a restful visit to the Tassajara Zen monastery in Carmel Valley. The weather was hot -- just like real summer - and there were cold plunges in the river, hiking to the windcaves, and hot tubs in the evening. Bliss.
Then I got home, and my world got complicated.
My cat Lindy is 4 years old and has lived with me the past two. She's cute, gray, fluffy, a medium-haired American cat with an attitude and heaps of charm. She's got four white paws -- "her go-go boots" my old neighbor used to call them -- and a "tuxedo", a goatee and bib in white. She likes to survey her domain from atop the steps. She likes to sleep on top of the armoire where the TV is stored. Or curled up in a little ball on the square of blanket on my bed. Or in her Scratch Lounge bed, with a good view of the stairs to eye any interlopers. Lindy ruled the roost, the 4th roommate who could get us all to do her bidding without saying a word.
There's still some hope she'll return. My neighbors -- who I'm talking to for the first time -- are all optimistic. I've put up fliers, and taped them to the sidewalk. I've followed up on leads, biking through Golden Gate Park at 5am, calling the cat. Lee called in response to the flier, told me about Lurline street, choc full of cats. I get 2-3 calls a day of people trying to help.
It's like that song, the cat came back, the very next day... I hope Lindy can return to us. The house isn't the same without her here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)