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Escape Artist

Sometimes I worry about the future well-being of my unborn, not yet conceived children, because I’m not quite sure how good of a parent I’ll be.  You see, I opted to start working in a grocery store at 15 instead of continuing my babysitting career because I hated it.  Therefor I fully intend to have my sister on speed dial at all times, since at her ripe old age of 23 she still babysits.  Oh, she’s also a NICU nurse.  Other times I’ll think I’ll be ok, mostly because even when it comes to my cat I can sense when something is amiss.

You see, Pumpkin has a schedule on which she must be fed, or it’s like the world is ending.  She starts meowing at me the second my alarm goes off in the morning, and before I even have the front door fully opened in the evening when I come home.  The incessant meowing continues until the food is placed in her bowl in front of her.  It is super annoying, especially at 7 am when I’m trying to get dressed for work.

So this morning when my alarm went off, I noticed I was alone, which in itself is unusual but I continued with my morning routine.  By the time I opened my bedroom door to head downstairs, I fully expected to see the monster sitting outside of it meowing her face off.  Nope, no cat.  I knew she had been with me all night, thanks to some cat vomit on the bedroom floor, so downstairs I went.  Still no cat.  I outwardly groaned and asked Dani if she’d seen her, nope, and there are only a few places she could have been since she can’t get under my bed and the roommates keep their doors closed.  She was in none of those places.

I grabbed a bag of treats and headed out to the front porch where I called her name and shook the bag, hoping she’d come running.  Negative.  At this point my panic level was gradually increasing as I contemplated ways to tell my boss I wasn’t coming to work today because my cat was missing.  I went back inside and out the back door to the porch, again shaking the bag of treats and calling her name.  It was then I heard the unmistakable jingle of Pumpkin’s collar, thank god I have 57 tags and a bell on there, and out she came from under some bushes by the shed.

I quickly grabbed her and brought her back inside, at which point she started meowing for her breakfast like she hadn’t nearly given me a heart attack.  Just a perfectly normal morning for her with an adventure outside.  Sigh, pets.  I really have no idea how she got out, unless she scooted out the front door with my other roommate this morning.  She’s a wily one, that Pumpkin.

Anyway, so it was somewhat of a dramatic morning for me.  Luckily Pumpkin has never ventured too far from the house any time she’s gotten out.  Once she was in our neighbors house, but that’s a story for another time.  Two weeks till I head out to Wisconsin and my sister arrives tomorrow! Happy Thursday!