from the porches: welcome home, punky

Punky and Roger are reunited.

I must say I have been heartbroken for the past four days. Monday night when Punky escaped, I called and called and called his name. I paced and paced and couldn't sleep. I wanted my cat back!

Tuesday night I heard a cat fight in the yard and knew it was Punky trying to come home; but that mangy old black yard cat that got Molly pregnant wouldn't let him.

Around 5:00 A.M. on Wednesday morning I heard a cat fight. Screaming sounds coming from the woods. I called and called and prayed and prayed and finally came to the conclusion that the mangy old black yard cat had to go.

"Shoot him!" I told Truett. But Truett knows how to handle these kinds of situations. He knew it was against every moral grain in my soul to shoot an animal.

Instead Truett got his gun and tracked the black cat down. He fired his gun a couple of times during the day to scare the black cat away.

Then I had hope.

All day Wednesday I called and called and called Punky's name, but to no avail. "I know he's out there, but he can't come home. That mangy old black cat won't let him."

By then Roger had stopped pacing and meowing as well and I was trying to come to terms with the loss of my cat. It was as if my child had run away from home. The feeling was no different.

Everytime I drove down my driveway I scanned the woods for an orange cat. I saw sunlight bouncing off tree stumps and slammed the brakes on, hoping it was my cat. But it wasn't.

By Thursday I was coming to terms with the loss of my baby. I was trying to be a good sport about it but couldn't focus on conversation. I continued to take walks and call, "Punky! Here kitty, kitty, kitty!"

We were gone from the house most of yesterday and when we finally got home Mom said, "That Roger has wanted in and out on the front porch ALL DAY LONG!"

True. As we were settled in to watch TV last night Roger wanted back out on the porch. At one point I told Darlene I had to go call for my cat one more time. She said if it were her cat, she would do the same.

When I stepped to the porch I saw Roger in the inside window sill. . .with Punky on the outside. They were meowing to each other. Brothers reunited!

After coaxing Punky with canned food, he made his way to the front door where I quickly grabbed him and tossed him inside. I have a few puncture marks on my arms, but PUNKY IS HOME!

Thank you, Roger. You are a good brother. Thank you, Truett. You have been patient with me during this ordeal. Thank you, Darlene for listening to me talk about the loss of my cat.

WELCOME HOME, PUNKY!

Comments

This post made my day. Seriously! We lost Annabel twice, once when she was a tiny kitten, and found a space in the wall inside our closet. She squeezed herself into the wall, and then couldn't figure out how to squeeze herself out again. Larry was ready to rip out the drywall. Of course this all happened at midnight! The second was during the chaos of moving off post...movers in and out and the front door was wide open-of course, both cats escaped from the room their 'secure' room. I totally know that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach-so glad you had a happy ending!

Posted by: Susan | October 15, 2010 at 07:02 AM