Smokey hasn't come home. Smokey was Lizzy's 8th birthday present, a gray and white kitten. He adores her. Sleeps with her, waited on her school bus, and stands on the stairs telling her it's time for bed around 10 pm. He tolerated the rest of us because, apparently, Lizzy liked us.
Lizzy was at Mission Camp last week and it's not unusual for Smokey to not come in at night when she's been gone several days. He loves our backyard and usually takes his naps in the shade of the bird bath. However, as soon as Lizzy gets home and calls for him, he comes bounding up the stairs to her. He usually goes straight to their bedroom and begs her to take a nap with him.
Saturday afternoon she called for him - and he didn't come. Same Saturday night, Sunday morning, all day yesterday and last night she posted a vigil for him on the back deck. This morning - she's asleep on the living room couch. I guess bed was just too hard to face.
As Mike said this morning, "Why couldn't this happen in just a couple more weeks?" Then she'll be off to college and while still painful, the loss might've been more bearable.
I keep watching the back door thinking he'll show up all of a sudden.
Even though it's well known that I'm not much of an animal person, we've never been without animals. We had dogs and cats all the while I was growing up. Mike and I had our "baby" Chancey, (part huskey) before we had kids. We had Tipsy (terrier and beagle mix) and Shannon (german shepherd) when our kids were younger. I had the pre-requisite stashed kitten in my college dorm room - and I was the RA. Now we have Ginger, the most laid back calico cat in the world, and Smokey.
Poor Lizzy, emotions were already running high with her friends heading off in different directions and now this.
Worst of all - I can't do a darn thing.