Growing up on the farm, I have had countless animals, and all of them either took off into the wild blue yonder one day, were eaten by the neighbors dogs, had to be shot, drank anti-freeze, or lived a long life, finally succumbing to old age. I always just went and found another animal, whether my parents wanted me to or not (usually not). There was always a stray cat, dog, or a bird's nest to look after, if only for a couple days.
I am seriously re-thinking my decision to allow Molly to go outside with Trance once in awhile.
A few weeks ago, during a BBQ with friends, I was convinced to let her out and about in the yard. I carried her outside, and she freaked out, scratching the shit out me, scared out of her wits. A few minutes later however, she ran across the neighbor's yard, happy and scrappy, and at that moment, I was sure I was never going to see her again. But alas, she came back, and after a few trips outside, she figured out where her territory was, and was quite happy, chasing birds and bugs and eating the neighbor's flowers and grass.
Maybe she was a little too happy outside. Soon enough, I had to have eyes in the back of my head, because when I wasn't looking, she was sneaking out the door, and the windows, even when it meant that she had to knock over everything on the window sill, and make her body flat, and snake-like to get out.
I last saw her Thursday night. We were sitting in the back yard, and I grabbed both cats, and threw them in the house, telling them it was past their bedtime. Seconds later, the two of them came prancing past us, looking at me, with a look that can only be described as "You can't keep us captive, bitch." It took me awhile to figure out what window they had escaped from, and put it back together as best I could, and threw them in the house once again.
Friday morning, Trance yelled at me for breakfast and water, and Molly was nowhere to be found. Being in a rush to get to work, I didn't think much of it, and ran out of the house myself. When I arrived home that night, I still couldn't find her, but I wasn't worried yet...maybe she had been let out, or maybe she was in the basement or something.
By Saturday, I was getting worried though. Not having her biting my toes, eating my hair and cuddling with me when I arrived home from work, was sad. My day to day life was missing something. I kept an eye out all weekend, and there was no sign of Miss Molly Magoo.
So, this morning, I called the Humane Society, to see if someone had turned her in. Of course, they were closed, so I called Animal Protection. They told me that since she was tattooed, if she had been turned in, dead or alive, someone would have called me by now. Then they gave me shit for letting my kitty outside on such a busy street, and asked me to make a donation. I hung up.
I have not been having much luck, owning pets in the city. Although it will be hard, if Molly Magoo is gone for good, I will not get another cat. I am not home enough, and I ALWAYS choose the homeless kitty that has a mind of her own, and a taste for adventure. Not once have I owned a cat that just wanted to lay around all day and lick their ass. I always end up with a cat that is just like me....wanting to be on the go and causing trouble.
If Molly has passed on, or has taken off to start another life, that's heart-breaking. However, she is an animal, and maybe The House of Pain just wasn't her bag. Her existence began on the street, and maybe that's where she feels she belongs...she always was a bit of a gangsta. I can only hope she'll write home once in awhile, telling me of her adventures.