Near escape

I have two indoor cats who don't like car trips or schedule upsets or change of any kind. Their names are Wyatt and Chloe. This photo of me and Wyatt, the friendly cat, is the only cat photo I have on this computer so it will have to do even though you'll have to imagine the other cat, Chloe, who is smaller, shy, and calico. You would have to imagine her meow anyway, which is very tiny and high-pitched. She spends her days hiding under things and running away.

I came home from orchestra rehearsal yesterday at about 8:30pm. It was dark and I was on the phone with my dad. The front light was not on and I was carrying a lot of stuff. So, in I bustle, with a vague realization that the door was open and I couldn't see anything in the dark. I put down my things and proceeded into my bedroom, shutting the door, so that I could finish talking to my dad. Time passed... I finished my conversation about a half hour later and came out into the kitchen to fix myself some good old PB&J and to unload the dishwasher, etc.

As I'm eating, I notice Chloe sitting in the doorway. She's very shy and doesn't usually like to visit so I'm a little surprised but I chat with her. She meows and sort of shuffles back and forth a little. She stays there staring at me so long that I decide she must need something so I go over to where she is and follow her into her room where she runs under the bed and I notice that she may sort of need water so I fill her bowl. While I'm filling, she follows me back into the kitchen. If she were a child, she would be doing a sort of impatient potty dance. If she were a grown-up, she would be clearing her throat. At this point, Chloe and I have spent more time together than in the typical week and I'm starting to worry. Suddenly, I realize the missing piece. Wyatt, my usually very needy/whiny/vocal cat is uncharacteristically absent. So, I call him, which usually illicits an immediate response. No Wyatt. Now I think he might be sick so I start looking under beds. This is when it hits me that I came into the house in the dark, with lots of stuff, and left the door open for a while. Wyatt has been in escapee mode lately and I realize, "Disaster! I have lost my cat to the great outdoors!" So, I go rushing to the front door and open it, look around, and then call Wyatt, "Wyatt!" Immediately, the sad and distressed Wyatt comes rushing up the front stairs in crouchy, near-the-ground, panic posture. This is the posture he uses when children come into my house. He was released! He had been out there for maybe an hour at this point! He was traumatized. I have no idea where he was but his nose was dirty. Possibly under the front stairs? I can only imagine that he'd decided that he'd been abandoned and was going to have to learn to fend for himself in the wilds. This was particularly accentuated by the fact that, when he finally gained re-admittance, he ran immediately to his food bowl and started snarfing food. He'd decided that he'd been left for dead! He didn't talk to me at all for the rest of the night. He didn't even yell at me. He just sulked. It was very sad. This morning we had a chat and he explained to me that I'd hurt his feelings...but only after Kevin forced him to get up and talk to me (he was not boycotting Kevin). Anyway, I'm glad he's back and I'm glad he's not the sort of cat to run away. I suspect that he's now regaling Chloe with tales of the outside. She won't be impressed. She lived outside for months before she came to live with us. I should have pointed that out to Wyatt...