So, I had fully intended to write about that kitten of mine who was turning two on Saturday and welcome him to cat-hood. We've been suffering through some epic flooding in the basement of the house he & I now call home. Bad enough on my feet (splashing & squishing and inches of standing water in places) I at least could put hip waders (ok, exaggeration: mock-croc's did the job) but Thurman refused to wear his. He refused to sleep downstairs with me that night. And I guess I should have known that he just couldn't stand the cold water on his furry paws -- and I should have paid more attention especially considering that his litter box was in the downstairs bathroom.

Now, many many of the feline persuasion would display their displeasure at these indignities by making a point; that point either made proudly on a couch or in the master bedroom, or of the more hidden variety (oh, the humans will eventually find out about my displeasure when they clean out this closet come Spring), but my fine beast took a dump in the upstairs bathroom tub. And really, I couldn't come up with a better, more considerate place for that sort of business to be done. So as he turned into full-fledged cat status, I was applauding his maturity.

But he is a cat after all and I am not saying it was revenge per se, because he's not talking but he did get me back yesterday. Now, potentially it could have been the contractor who came to assay the water damage and what to do about it. Our new house mate had opined that his contractor is an alien, and we all know what Alien Life Forms eat, so maybe Thurman was hiding from him and maybe he got trapped somewhere for the day, but all I knew was he was gone.

And he wasn't answering calls.

And we had the front doors wide open for some time as we were dragging the dead weight of wall-to-wall carpeting that has been soaking in icy cold water for days and day up the basement stairs and out to the driveway to dry in the bright sunshine. So I assumed he got out.

Spent a good part of yesterday afternoon into early evening canvassing and wandering the neighborhood looking for the lil' jerk. Did cause me to update his status with the micro-chip people, but he wasn't wearing his collar because the tag on it has my old phone number (will correct that order of business this week too) and to say I was in a panic would be understatement. I had to cancel a dinner date at that last minute for which I felt really, really crappy, but I would not have been much fun to be with. But I suppose all's well that ends well; Thurman was located last night; he's got his collar on, and I've Sharpied the address & telephone number on his face so we won't be having anymore mishaps like this! Sheesh...

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Of course now instead of visiting shelters, pounds and re-canvassing the neighborhood I get to schedule my wisdom teeth extraction this week so there's that big WIN!

Perhaps there will be some pain med-induced Opening Day rambles posted here this week so keep your eyes out for that.

Thanks,
Brian