Thursday, November 13

That Sixth Sense

[Fourteenth in a series]

BabyDoll had one of those sixth sense behaviors - face it, of all God's creatures, cats seem to have more than their fair share of senses - where she'd know that I was on my way home. Because she was always waiting for me by the front door.

Except one day.

I didn't think about it at first; like any other day, it was drop everything on the floor as I came in (yes, this was in my bachelor/pre-Marilee days), into the kitchen, pop open a beer (not doing on-call either), and plant myself in front of the computer (not much different from today, ask Marilee) in my office (read living room).

I always kept one of my desk drawers open, with a kitty bed therein. And BabyDoll would often sleep in the drawer. Cute? You better believe it was cute.

But she wasn't in the kitty bed, either. So she must be in the bedroom curled up on the bed, fast asleep.


Not quite frantic yet; maybe she was getting a drink, something to eat, or in the litter box.

NOW I was getting frantic, and started calling her name. "BabyDoll! BabyDoll!"

"Where'd the Baby go?" Getting frustrated that I couldn't find her, that call morphed into "BabyGO?!?!"

Under stuff in the bedroom closet? No.

Under the bed? No. Under some furniture? No!

OK, sit down on the bed, relax.

I thought through the possibility the maintenance people had been by, but they usually would leave a note on the door. No note.

Over the course of two hours, when I thought I'd lost her, I called one last time "BABYGO!!!"



WHERE did the sound come from?



From the closet?

A sprint into the closet had me looking around, then I saw it. Something had been knocked off a shelf. And paw prints in the dust. And my gaze went up, up, and higher still.


And I started saying "BabyGo?" whenever I'd come home from work.


And thereafter, kept the closet door shut.

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