Sunday, July 30, 2006
I MISS YA
When I first woke up this morning, Scoot was rearranging my bedroom as she always does when she wants to wake me up. I shoo her away, close the door and stick a pencil in the crack so she can’t head-butt the door back open as she has learned how to do. I go back into my morning sleep feeling the pains from the night before take over my head.

When I finally get up I make my way for the living room to watch my Sunday starter TV and I noticed that Tony left the side door open with the screen closed. Nothing clicked into my head until an hour after sitting on the couch and thinking “where is that damn cat?”
I knew what had happened after I shook the bag of kitty food and the running sound of a joyous little orange Scoot never came. Possibly when Tony left he didn’t remember to slam the door shut and she pawed the door opened and walked right outside. I was in horror as I bolted outside barefoot looking around the house for any trace of her stripes. I also had a major hangover that wasn’t helping at all.
Isn’t that always the way? You go out and party a little too much the night before and the cat gets out in the moments of confusion. Last time she got out I had just returned from printing up a pile of “LOST CAT” flyers to discover she was only in the lobby of the house under some junk in the hallway. This time was worse since she was outside and I had no idea for how long. I also had to go to work at the gallery that afternoon and I was sluggish looking for her in the heat with my head pounding.
When I got back in, Amanda Mae and Justin were just getting up and I told them what had happened. Mae took one look at me and advised a cold shower and to get better clothes on if I plan to walk around the hood looking for Scoot. I agreed and sat under the running water for 20 minutes sobbing.
I had just created silly cat drawings in my sketchbook where Scoot and I go on fuzzy kitty adventures and the mere though of these doodles depressed me. I had them stuck up on the fridge so I couldn’t bring myself to make breakfast since I would have to look at them. I just left her food out in case I was crazy and she was just hiding in a closet and lurched off to work looking under and past things for a bolt of orange fuzz.
I looked how I felt today at the gallery. I was alone for a long time in the store so I hid myself in the basement and cried. Its not the best work ethic, but it was the only thing I could do for the first hour at work. All day I half expected Scoot to be waiting by the window when I came home meowing for dinner half to say, “Hey hey pretty lady- I waited for you to come home and now its time to eat!” I thought wouldn’t it be silly if Scoot was to walk down Main Street only to come visit me at work to cheer me up and I could show her the luxury of air conditioning.
When 5 came, I walked the Queen Street way turning my head and looking everywhere. Robin was outside on her porch when I told her that I had lost Scoot. Stuart was outside too and commented that he had never seen my face drawn so long before ever and that the two of them would keep an eye open if they saw her. I ran inside my apartment and checked the bowl- still full. No Scoot. It was time to have another walk around the block to see if I could find her.
The sun was coming down and I was exhausted from my searching. Every 10 minutes I stood outside on my porch looking off in the distance for any traces of Scoot. My dad was calling me every 10 minutes and I was too depressed to answer the phone and too wise to tell him the bad news. I just sat on my couch and kept my eyes burning a hole into the screen door half expecting her to start pawing at it.
Then, as if I was half dreaming, half going insane from my day, I saw a tuff of orange come close to the door and a faint meow. I got up quickly and peered over the screen and there was a very dirty Scoot looking back at me with this puzzled and frightened look. I opened the door and she backed off and hissed. I cooed at her and said it was alright and she came bounding into the living room. I closed the door and walked up to her to give her a good one over- where ever she was it was dirty and whatever she was doing it must have taken her for a real wacky ride because she was both happy and pissed off at the same time. I gave her fresh food and cooed her to eat it and after a while she was purring and I was brushing her clean with a brush.
When Scoot came back it was if everything clicked back the right way and my day had really started. It may sound silly, getting sad over a cat running away, but I love my Scoot and I consider her part of my family. Since day one I have been the only thing there for her, giving her a home after being thrown away in a plastic bag and making sure she’s fed, cleaned and she’s rushed to the vets when she gets sick. I have carried her bleeding in my arms across town when she was in pain, asked my boss for fanatical help when she was sick, ran home every day at lunch at the old job to check up on her as a kitten and even bundled her up in a pillow case to bring to my moms house when mom was sick so she wouldn’t feel alone. Scoot will always be a meanie and will bite people and give them sassy attitude, but I love her and I will for always and I forgive her every night when she curls up next to me in bed and purrs in my ears.