Where’s Skippy?

Earlier in the week, my friend, Brenda, sent an e-mail with a photo attachment to me and to two of our friends, Nancy and Sarah. The e-mail was titled “From Our Wildlife Preserve.” Last I knew, Brenda and her husband, Steve, had not moved to Africa, so I was a little confused; however, instead of reading the e-mail right away, I sat there and pondered what one might name a pet giraffe (“Yao”), gazelle (“Flo Jo”), aardvark (“Arthur”), eland (“FunkyAntelopeDudeWhoICan’tThinkofaGoodNamefor” or quite simply “HeyYou”), impala (“Chevy” after Chevy Chase, of course!), hyena (“Giggles”), or hippopotamus (“Hippocrat”).

I proceeded to read her e-mail which described the photo attached. It said, “You might miss Skippy. He’s on the lower corner of the picture, behind the weeds.” Okay, I knew Skippy was not a giraffe, gazelle, aardvark, eland, impala, hyena, or hippopotamus; Skippy was Brenda’s domestic short hair orange tabby cat.

I opened the photo, and I saw this.



After looking at the lovely deer, I went directly to the designated “lower corner” of the picture. For the life of me (pre-second cup of coffee in my defense), I could not see Skippy. I saw a beautiful deer, snow, weeds, and rocks. (Upon reflection later, maybe there was only one rock in the picture.) In about five minutes, both Sarah and Nancy responded to Brenda to acknowledge that they had seen Skippy.

I took another look and I still could not see Skippy. I felt stupid asking again where Skippy might be, so I pretended to be busy with work, didn’t respond, and got that second much-needed cup of coffee. Upon return, I looked at the picture again; jeez, I had always stunk at those “Where’s Waldo?” books.

Nathan would find Waldo over and over again. I’d sit there looking and looking and Nathan would ask why I hadn’t spotted that dear chap, Waldo, yet. I’d say, “I see him everywhere, but I just didn’t want to spoil the fun for you!”

Anyway, today, I had lunch with Brenda. I guess because I didn’t respond to her e-mail (but I was way too busy with work, Brenda!), she asked, “So, did you see Skippy's picture.” Damn. I could have feigned a trip to the bathroom or thrown my roll on the floor and gone under the table to fetch it, hoping Brenda might forget her question; however, there really was no avoiding an answer at this point.

I hesitated. I knew I had to confess to my friend that I had a problem; I was “Where's insert_item_here?” challenged. Would she understand? Would she be supportive? Would she direct me to the closest “Where’s insert_item_here?” anonymous meeting? I knew I had to tell her the truth, even if I was going to feel totally stupid.

I said, “I couldn’t find him!” Oh, the anguish, the shame, and damn the second cup of coffee that didn’t make me see the Skippy light. She said, “Really? He was right there in the corner of the gazebo.” I said, “I know; he’s in lower right corner. I looked, and I could not find him!”

She laughed, though I knew she must be thinking, “How did Jean not see Skippy in that photo? Jean can always spot a cat at one pace. Jean is losing her feline identification mojo; this usually doesn’t happen until after the age of 50. Gasp!” I said I’d attempt another look. I was really thinking that I would just respond to her e-mail with an “Oh, yeah. There’s the little furry dude,” even if I still couldn’t see him!

When I got back to my office after lunch, an email was waiting for me. It was from Brenda. I didn’t open it immediately. I knew she was just probably sending me the date and time for the next “Where’s insert_item_here?” anonymous meeting in my neighborhood.

After acknowledging that I might benefit from such a meeting, I looked at the title of her e-mail which was “See?” Anticipating "Monday night at 6pm at the Congregational Church," I opened her e-mail thinking I had nothing to lose and only super x-ray vision to gain. Isabelle was missing about 8 socks; this meeting might be the key to me finding all the matches in her bureau. I could play “Where’s purple with green polka dots?” successfully!

A photo displayed. It was the same picture of the deer and the alleged Skip in the right corner in the weeds. This time though, there was a huge circle around Skippy and a large red arrow pointing to the circled Skippy.



After the not so subtle pointer to Skippy, I thought about replying, “Oh, I get it now. Skippy is your new deer!” Actually, when I saw the circle and the arrow, I laughed out loud. Okay, okay, okay, Brenda! I see Skippy now!

I told Brenda that it wasn’t my fault. Skippy was too good at cat camouflage, which I'm sure he learned at the Cat Intelligence Agency. For all Brenda knows, Skippy is with the CIA and that deer is on the terrorist watch list, a suspected card-carrying member of Elk-Qaeda!

Just so I didn’t feel totally stupid about my inability to identify a cat in the weeds, I sent the picture to my friend, Chris, in the UK. When you feel like you’re on another planet because you can’t find a cat in a picture, you outsource to another country for a different perspective. He said, “I wouldn’t have spotted that cat.” You have to love friends, who say things like that while they are secretly thinking, "I'm with Brenda. How the hell did she miss that cat?"

After looking at the picture again, I thought that Skippy did a great impersonation a clump of vertical weeds or a rock with ears. No offense, Skippy, because you know I think you're the George Clooney of cats! I do know that the next time I receive another “Where’s insert_item_here?” message, I am going to respond with “Yes, I see insert_item_here by the insert_location_here and it looks insert_adjective_here!” whether I see it or not! ♥