Midnight Pickups

I recently found myself in a warehouse in the middle of a snowy night. In my pajamas. Because this is the stuff that happens to me.

At the end of August I was entrusted with a cat. An old cat. While my very good friend was in the process of listing, selling and moving I was trusted with her cat. Or more likely the only person who said yes. After we split a bottle of wine...

He's grumpy, demanding and he talks a lot. We instantly bonded over our similarities. He came named, sort of. Named Fatboy. He's a little too regal, in my opinion for that name so I changed it. To Stanley. It sort of fits with his general grumpiness.

Again, he talks. A lot. Many nights I would put him in the basement so that I could sleep better as he tends to most enjoy a 4AM conversation. I don't tend to enjoy those as much... Two weeks ago I put him in the basement and went to bed. Little did I know that the basement door would blow open and Fatboy Stanley would disappear. In an ice storm.

I panicked. Honestly.

I lost NOT my cat.

He's 20. He hasn't really ever been outside. And, he doesn't have any business being outside. He's a house cat of the highest order. He moves between the couch and the bed. On a busy day.

He's slightly deaf and blind. He's a deadman on the outside. I knew it. His 'other' mother knew it. And, probably in his little cat mind, he knew it too.

I posted his picture on Facebook groups, the shelter and craigslist. Walked around. Called him. Left food out, just in case.

It snowed for days. Four snow days in two weeks. Temperatures hovering around 30. There is no way he's still alive. He's 20. It's freezing. He probably went outside to hide and die.

Reunited. And it feels so good.

And then, on Saturday night, 13 days after he disappeared... I found myself on the phone with the manager of a storage unit at 11PM. A cat had marched into her building and refused to leave. Pictures looked like him; attitude sounded like him.

It was him.

Found.

On the other side of the tracks.

And a highway.

He's thin. And very tired. But, happy to be home.

After two days back, his hoarse voice on the mend, he woke me at 4 AM.  Just to say hi.



Tonight that asshole sleeps in the basement.

Puzzling

I hate puzzles.

And boardgames.

Seriously.

Cards or dice I can do but boardgames... no way. I have no fond memories of board game playing or putting together a puzzle. Not one.

Fragi-lee...

But, the other night I was a little bored and there was an unopened puzzle in the closet. It was special puzzle. A leg lamp puzzle. Something interesting at least. In a mini crate just like the movie. I had a little fantasy of putting it together and then doing the puzzle glue and it would be a fun Christmas decoration.

So I thought, what the hell? Tore open the plastic and started sorting. About 15 minutes in I remembered that I hate puzzles. Like a lot. It's a giant mess. For a long time. 500 pieces of mess. Not a square, not a puzzle with an edge. Nope, this thing is actually shaped like a leg lamp.

When the boy saw me puzzling, he actually said, "Really? Really Mom? A puzzle? Really?" In my excitement that a tween talked to me I forgot to answer but yes, really. I really worked on a puzzle.

DONE! Or not.

I toiled. And I got lucky because the kids had a day off from school and they are total nerds who like puzzles. So, they helped. The family helped. Friends dropping by helped. There was help. A lot. A lot of help. But, after a few days of picking at it from time to time, making mistakes, unhooking pieces, swearing...

All the pieces were there. The mess gone. A completed puzzle.

Until I looked closer.

Oh HELL NO.

The house searched. Couch cushions removed. Children interrogated*.

Not 500 pieces perfectly put together.

499 pieces. A piece is missing.

Arms raised I shouted, "YOU USED UP ALL THE GLUE ON PURPOSE!"

And then filed away another reason that I hate puzzles.

But that damn thing is getting glued and framed anyway.

*In my family it would be absolutely expected to 'borrow' and hide a puzzle piece to drive someone bananas. In fact, I'm almost disappointed they didn't.

It's hideous.