The hope and heartbreak of a missing cat

Friday was a morbid day. Sandy and I each stole frequent glances out the window, hoping for a miracle. We left the front door open and often wandered onto the porch and called his name in that sing-song tone of endearment.

No response. Nothing. It was heartbreaking.

Thursday night as we were settling down on the couch to watch a movie, Sandy let our two cats out to do their business.

“We need to remember to let them back in before we go to bed,” she said.

After the movie we let the dogs out and Jack Jack, the eldest of our two cats, came in. He was followed by the dogs. But Gizmo was nowhere to be seen. We didn’t think much about it, as he occasionally stays out all night. Friday morning, however, he was not at the door waiting to come in like he usually is.

This worried us, especially since temperatures dropped into the 30s that night. Gizmo is declawed and we live in the country with all kinds of wildlife around and big neighborhood dogs that roam our property. Throughout the day we took turns searching for him. We called him. Sandy shook the cat treat container. Nothing. No sign of Gizmo anywhere. I did some yardwork to keep me outdoors in hopes of finding him.

I made up a couple of Lost Cat posters and put them up on the row of mailboxes at the entrance to our neighborhood. I went on social media and made pleas for his safe return should anyone find him. We prayed to God to bring him back to us.

Sandy was working from home. Frequently Gizmo would hop into her lap and be her work buddy. Sandy was crestfallen and looked forlorn without him. We were worried and the longer the day went the more the hope for a return started to cross over to bracing ourselves for the inevitable recovery of his body and the loss of a beloved pet.

We tried all day to be optimistic, but the “what ifs” hammered us relentlessly. As night came, we went to bed with unspoken words lodged in our throats and pessimism creeping into our dreams. I secretly kept telling myself to stop worrying so much because it was just a cat. I knew I was wrong about that. Pets are like family and losing Gizmo was painful.

Saturday morning came and once again it had been a cold night. We had work to do on the porch, including building a handrail for the steps and moving boxes to storage or into the house to be unpacked. The work kept us busy and took our minds off of Gizmo. OK, that’s not totally true. We were always glancing around, still hoping for some sign of the little gray furball.

Early in the afternoon Sandy went over by our detached garage. She thought she heard a faint meow. She called Gizmo’s name and heard more meowing. Our hopes rose as she looked around calling his name. She could hear a cat, but couldn’t see it. Then she looked up. There was Gizmo perched on a large tree branch about 30-plus feet up!

I drove the pickup truck under the branch and put up the ladder in the truck bed. That was no good. We were still about 15 feet away from him. On top of that, he peed on us. As we went after him, he started roaming the branches, getting higher and further away. Sandy was able to coax him back down to the original branch while I got our neighbor to bring over his extension ladder. He held it as I gingerly made the climb. By the time I got up there, 30 feet became 40 or 50 in my mind.

When I got to the branch I was as scared as the cat. I’m not normally afraid of heights, but with unsure footing and a long drop, my heart was pounding. Gizmo had moved a few feet out and I couldn’t reach him. Finally, Sandy got the garden hose and sprayed him. That did it. Gizmo started crawling toward me. And then he started past me as I kept my precarious grip on the ladder.

Sensing this was my best opportunity, I reached across my body and snagged him by the scruff of his neck. I pulled him to me and held onto to him and the ladder for dear life. His back claws dug into my chest as he struggled to free himself from my tight grasp. I very slowly backed down the ladder and deposited Gizmo into Sandy’s waiting arms. She immediately took him into the house and gave him food and water. I repeatedly thanked Juan, our neighbor, for coming to the rescue with the ladder while my pulse returned to normal.

We thanked God for answering our prayer. We annoyed the heck out of the cat loving on him. I updated posts on social media and took down the posters. The morbidity of Friday morphed into the dawn of a new day on Saturday and all was right with the world. At least our little corner of the world. And at the time of this writing, Gizmo has shown no interest at all in going outside.

That reminds me, I really need to clean the litter box. He made up for lost time in there.