He was last seen stretched out in the sun in the yard on Sunday at about 5pm, and then at 6pm, he didn’t show up for the dinner bell (i.e., the shaking of the cat crunchie container). And, he hasn’t been seen since then.
Now Thunderbolt is the one of the friendliest cats.He has been nicknamed here at home, Thunderbolt “Any Contact is Good Contact” Katter.
He’s a constant fixture in Nathan’s lap while Nathan plays X-box, he sleeps on my feet every night, and he’s been known to go across the street and visit my elderly neighbors. They let him in, he visits, they let him out, and then he comes home.
“Thundie” (kinda like how Indiana Jones is called “Indy”), as we call him, also likes to follow people and tends to wander when he does follow people. Most cats have this innate invisible boundary of what their turf is. Well, Thundie never got that memo.
When I go to walk Monty, he often starts to follow, and I have to return with him in my arms and throw him inside, because I don’t want him out of his boundary, well, the one that I have defined for him. :-)
A few years ago, my neighbor’s daughter, Barbara, rang the doorbell one evening. I opened the door and there she was with Thundie in her arms.
She said, “This is Thunderbolt, right? I found him on Washington Street!"
Washington Street is several streets away and definitely beyond his approved boundary.
So Barbara said she pulled over, grabbed Thundie, threw him in her car, and then drove him back to my house.
Anyway, Sunday was a lovely day, so I’m hoping that because there were so many people out and about or doing yard work that he 1) Followed someone home or 2) Got stuck in someone’s garage or shed.
Yes, just say “No” to thoughts of him having been an entrée for a local coyote or fisher cat.
Well, for now, anyway.
So, by the time I got home on Monday after a long journey home, it was too late to canvass the neighborhood or print out and post flyers. Hugely disappointed by Thundie’s absence, I still had to carry on and ran out to the market to pick up a few things to make dinner and school lunches.
I was informed that there was a dead cat on Washington Street; however, the body had been checked, and it was NOT a positive ID for Thundie.
It was a large gray tiger kitty, and Thundie is a tabby mackerel cat.
On my way home when I was about a quarter of the way up my street, I saw a flyer stapled to the telephone pole which said “Cat Found”. I stopped immediately, jotted down the number, and drove home. The flyer said to leave your name, telephone, and a description of the cat.
I was so excited, because how ironic was to lose a cat and then see a “Cat Found” sign posted, that when I started my message on the “Cat Found” person’s answering machine, I said, “I think you might have my cat. His name is Thunderbolt…”, and then I said, “Oh, well, you knowing his name really doesn’t help you as far as a description of his goes, um, but just in case, you now know his name!”
Yeah, it was like I was thinking that Thundie was in their recliner with a glass of Chardonnay in his paws telling these people his name and life story. :-)
I left my message and waited the whole night for a return phone call, and there wasn’t one. Every time someone called, I had to do the “Oh, it’s just you” thing in my head.
On Tuesday morning, after I got Iz off to school, I called the “Cat Found” number again and asked if they could just call to tell me that it wasn’t my cat. Then, I found a picture of Thundie, slapped it into a Word doc with my phone numbers and the title “Lost Cat”. After printing out several copies, I grabbed a box of thumb tacks, a small hammer, and headed out the door.
I was rather bothered that the “Cat Found” people had not called me back yet. I was also wondering why these people posted a sign if they weren’t willing to call an interested party back. Then it struck me that they had fallen in love with Thundie and that they were never going to give him back!
Eeeek!
K, at that point, I mentally slapped myself, because I was beginning to think too much, and I decided that the “Cat Found” people were good people, because they posted “Cat Found” signs in the neighborhood. And, that they probably couldn’t return my calls yet, because they were in Arkansas visiting Uncle Bobby and Aunt Betty Lou.
Yeah, that’s it!
Oh, work with me, people!
At that point, that thought was like a mental Hello Kitty band-aid for my “Missing Thundie Terribly” state of mind.
Anyway, I posted one of my “Lost Cat” flyers under every one of their “Cat Found” posters, hoping to give the people who were ignoring me or yeah, sunny side, just on vacation in Arkansas this week, a big HINT to call me!
Anyway, here is a picture I like to call “Missing Pet Irony”.
So, on Tuesday night, my cell rang and I answered it.
“Are you still missing your cat?” said the man on the other end.
I thought, “Oh, yes. It’s the Cat Found people!”
I told him I was, and then he said, “Cuz, I’m out here walking my dog, and above your sign is a sign about a found cat.”
I sighed and said, “Yes, I know. I’ve called them twice already.”He explained he was out walking his dog, saw the signs and thought, “You have a lost cat, they have a found cat….”
It was very sweet of him to do the math for me on that one, but unfortunately, I had the equation figured out way before him.
By the time Wednesday rolled around, I still had not heard back from the “Cat Found” people. I called again. I was beginning to feel like I was stalking these people, especially since one of my friends suggested a reverse phone number lookup, which was a great idea, on their number so I could learn their address.
I left another message asking if they could please call and verify whether OR NOT they had Thundie, because I needed to tell the kids something.
I had already told Nathan the truth, but I was telling Iz that Thundie was at the animal hospital for tests.
She then saw a flyer I left in the car and said, “Mom, this says lost cat.” I quickly came back with the very rational, “No, it doesn’t say that!“ and took it from her.
Soon after that, she saw the flyer posted on the telephone pole and then again asked when Thundie would be home from the hospital and why his picture was up on the telephone pole.
I said that I had to call the vet, and the picture on the telephone pole was an invitation to everyone in the neighborhood to come to Thundie’s birthday party.
She then asked how old he was going to be and what kind of a party we were having.
Phew. :-)
I wasn’t trying to be deceptive, but I guess I wasn’t ready to admit that Thundie was actually “lost” when there was a “found” cat out there in the neighborhood.
By this morning, I had FOUR calls into the “Cat Found” people.
After going out for lunch, I came back and found a message on the answering machine.
[At this point, I was wondering if it was harder finding Thundie or the people who might actually have him!]
I thought, “Ah, the Cat Found people have called!”
I played the message.
It was Maria Rodriguez, who lives on Washington Street, telling me about a dead cat that I might want to glance at to see if it were my lost cat.
I knew it wasn’t.
But, it was very nice of her to call.
At that moment, I decided that I didn’t want to get any more “I think your cat is dead on Washington Street” calls.** Plus, I have to drive down Washington Street quite a bit, and it would kill me to see a dead kitty (hereafter referred to as “Gray Tiger Kitty “) by the side of the road every day.
It was now obvious that there were no “Lost Cat” flyers up for Gray Tiger Kitty, because he had been there on the side of the road since at least Sunday.
**WHILE I was typing this, I got another call on my cell.
It was a young guy who said, “Um, I think I found your cat. But, I hate to tell ya. He’s dead on the road.”
He and Maria must have been absent from school they day they went over colors and patterns.
I thanked him, because it was very nice of him to call and said, "No. That's not my cat. That cat was gray, and mine is a brown tabby mackerel tiger."
After Maria’s call, I headed down to the basement and grabbed a large cardboard box that had contained 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I bought it up stairs and proceeded to cut off the flaps on the longer sides. I left the ones on the shorter sides for handles. I took a garbage bag and inserted it into the box and pulled the sides of the bag over the box. Yes, a kitty coffin of sorts.
I went out to the garage, grabbed two shovels, and then scouted out a good location in the yard in which to dig a hole. I had to make several attempts, because my yard has lots of roots from bushes and trees that prevent you from easily digging too far below the surface. I finally found a spot in the corner of the yard where I was able to dig a Gray Tiger Kitty-sized hole.
I put my shovels in the car. Then I went back inside, got my kitty coffin, locked the door, put the box in the car, and then headed to the hardware store.
I remembered reading or seeing on some C.S.I type of TV show that putting lime on a body was a way to prevent stench or something like that.
I was just thinking that if I buried Gray Tiger Kitty, I didn’t want some animal digging him up. No, not at all.
When at the hardware store, I asked the clerk if they had any lime, and he said, “Oh, it’s outside. I’ll take you to it.”
As we walked out the door, I said, “Um, this is going to sound really odd, but do you know if putting lime on a dead body prevents odor?”
He looked at me (yes, like I was crazy!), and I quickly said, “Let me rephrase that. I’m burying a dead kitty, and I read somewhere that it masked the smell or decay or something like that. Really, I haven’t done anyone in….....yet!”
He laughed and said, “I’m not really sure.”
I said, “You know, I should have googled it.”
He said, “Yep. I’m sure you could have found that out on the Internet and also how to kill someone.”
We both laughed.
I bought a bag of lime and was on my way to see Gray Tiger Kitty.
I drove to the spot where I heard Gray Tiger Kitty was located at around 88 Washington Street.
And there he was.
Poor guy.
I grabbed the shovels and my box from the car.
He had looked smaller from a distance, but when I got close to him, he was quite a big boy, a lovely gray tiger with a big head and jowls. He was probably a Tom cat (unneutered male).
It looked like he was struck in the head and hopefully killed instantly.
His mouth and what was his used-to-be-lovely-pink-colored nose were covered with dried blood.
I tried to lift him with the smaller shovel, but then I realized that I would need the larger shovel too.
I’d have to use the small one under him and use the other one to keep him balanced on the shovel so I could lift him into the box.
It took a few attempts, but I got him up and into the box.
He was a bit too big for the box and in full rigor (yes, I watch C.S.I too much!), so he didn’t fall down easily into place.
His head and hind legs were sticking out a bit, so I did my best to fold the plastic bag over him so I wouldn’t have to look at his once cute but now bloodied and frozen-in-horror furry face.
I picked the shovels up and brought them back to the car.
I returned, picked up Gray Tiger Kitty’s box, walked back to the car, and placed him in the hatch next to the shovels.
Once home, I got Gray Tiger Kitty out of the car and brought him to my hole.
I chose a spot between the two huge rhododendron bushes by the huge tree in the front corner of the yard.
Really, it’s a very nice spot.
Hey, I might want even want to be buried next to Gray Tiger Kitty when the time comes!
I sprinkled some lime in the hole, and then I lifted Gray Tiger Kitty out of the box.
I placed him on the ground, tied the bag closed, and then lifted him down into the hole.
I sprinkled some more lime on top of him, and then I began to fill in the hole with dirt.
Poor Gray Tiger Kitty…lost, maybe always, but at least he now has a home in the corner of my yard.
And, here’s where Gray Tiger Kitty now “lives” instead of on the side of the road on Washington Street.
Rest in peace, Gray Tiger Kitty.
And, Thundie, please come home safely from wherever you are.
My feet and heart are not warm without you.
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