I thought I'd lost her.

Her name is Scruffy. She was a tiny kitten with tufts of fur sticking out here and there. I gave her a proper name--can't even remember now---I think it was Jessie. My husband saw her, burst out laughing and dubbed her "Scruffy" and that name stuck.

She's my "baby." Oh not in the same way as my own human babies who are now parents nor in the same way as my grandbabies. But in that crazy way that only those who have been totally loved by pets can understand, she's my "baby."

When my dad died, my world went topsy turvy. You see, I had to see that his wishes were carried out---that they let him die. I still wrestle with that. Sitting alone in this 1915 house Dad so wanted me to have, I missed him terribly. I told my husband that I'd sub for the next 10 years--- I just wanted to be back with him. Dad was gone and I could come back to Cincinnati. But then he told me changes were brewing in his company and that anywhere from one year - three years, he'd be without a job. We would need my health insurance. I had to stay. (He was to be laid off this past Feb., but they've extended it to May and now to August. They would like him to stay for another full year, but we have "moved" on and made plans up here. Neither of us want to extend this living apart).

So I spent a lot of nights crying, alone in B'ville. My fibro and osteo-arthritis flared up terribly and I thought I was going to lose it. Who climbed up on my lap, licked my tears, and snuggled next to me? Who let me carry her to bed and hold her close? Who still climbs up on my lap every morning as I sit in my recliner reading devotions? Well, I read them AFTER I pet her!
Scruffy.
George, her brother is affectionate too, but he and I aren't attached like Scruffy and I are.

I spent the weekend at our lake trailer. My husband and I opened it. His nephew and family came and fed the cats. They are indoor cats, though they still have their claws.
Anyhow, I came home tonight and went to put the key in the back door. It moved away from my hand---it was ajar. Then I heard that tone of George's---the one that says sis is missing.

I thought I lost her tonight.

I don't know when she got out. I arrived home at 6 PM and the nephew stopped by at 3 PM yesterday. So it's a good bet she was out all night. I couldn't find her. I called my husband who was driving back to Cinci. Yes, I lost it---crying. Why wasn't she waiting in the bushes? I didn't see her dead body in the street, but again, why wasn't she hiding nearby?

He called his sister to drive in, calm me down, and help me look for her. I had walked all around this part of the neighborhood. But Robyn started back down the alley, calling out softly. I noticed the neighborhood stray for the 3rd time. He wouldn't come near me, but he kept coming out where I could see him and then heading back to the old abandoned house. The third time, I followed him. I'd walked by it already, calling her name loudly. But this time, I talked sofly, wooing Scruffy to appear. (Oh and yes, I had prayed that He (God) would help me find her dead or alive). I heard something, stopped, and listened. Then I saw some grey fur. She appeared from amidst a pile of blocks above my head. Rickety stairs loomed beside her, but her way back to them was blocked. She was frantic; she couldn't figure out how to get down.
I managed on tip toe to extract her. She clung to me, all the while scolding me. I held her close and brought her home. She leaped from my arms before the door was completely opened.

She was hungry and very upset. So was George. He sniffed her and then hissed at her. He still won't go near her. She smells weird. Plus she left him alone to fret over her and fret about being alone in the house. George isn't gutsy--he doesn't like to be alone. He doesn't try to get out. He knows he has a good life here. She wants both worlds. But I'm hoping after spending the night in a cold, dark, stinky abandoned house that she'll think twice before she ventures out.

So much more that I wanted to blog about--so much that needed to be done here tonight. But instead, I hold her close and write about her.

Oh, and I owe the stray a big thanks. He led me to her. Maybe he just wanted the house to himself or maybe God sent him. I choose the latter, because I think He cares about the little as well as the big. After all, he cares about the sparrows!