In Which a Small Cat has a Big Time


I was returning from taking the trash out and in the tiny, tiny window of opportunity when the house door and the garage door are both open, Saki, the adorable and evil, but mostly evil, cat made a break for it.

I gave chase (always such a good idea) but tripped and fell, scratching both palms and banging up my knee.  By the time I had righted my creaking old self, he had disappeared.

I wandered up and down our tasteful and quiet street, making the the little “tch tch” noise that is the only thing he ever pays attention to, but sort of hopelessly.  Our neighborhood has big stretches of wild, open canyon and I figured he was off paying the coyotes a visit, and, really, what are the chances of finding a cat in the dark?

One of my neighbors popped up, a sweet lady who, I’m sure, is not responsible for her Crazy Hair, and offered to help.  She asked what “her” name was, I told her “He probably thinks it’s ‘Get Off the Table’ cause that’s what he hears the most.”  She didn’t seem to get it, so I relented and explained it was really Saki, which she allowed was a cool name.

We shared lost cat stories and she looked around for a while in the most inept manner possible until I finally thanked her and sent her on her way.  I leaned against the garage door, mentally composing flyers:

No collar
No brains
Answers to absolutely nothing.

If found, approach with caution.

I was already comforting myself with the realization that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about finding to someone to take care of him while I was in New Orleans when he scurried back in, his tail huge, as big around as it can get, so it would seem he had run into some adventures.

Serves him right.  I want it clearly understood I did NOT greet him with baby talk and chin scratches.  Maybe a little.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

19 responses »

  1. Have you considered having him microchipped by the RSPCA or a vet?

    That would make it easier to be reunited with him should this happen again.


  2. Oh that little devil; I live in dread of Nigel's getting out. He'd never come back. Also, for the first year of her life, I'm sure Emma thought her name was “EmmaNO!!!!!”


  3. They microchipped him at Animal Care and Control when we got him, but that just helps if somebody catches him and turns him into one of them, turns out it's not a some super-spy tracking device.


  4. At least Nigel seems like he could take care of himself. I have visions of Saki standing in the woods wondering “When are they going to serve breakfast around here?”


  5. Has 'she' been 'done' Mr P? A friend of mine had her vicious cat neutered and now she can pick him up without using a pair of oven gloves and it has no interest about going out.


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