occultatio

My cat ran away last night.

And he ran back this morning.

About 11, we suddenly noticed that the front door had opened, and a thorough check showed that Mikado (the cat) was nowhere inside. We burst out into the streets with flashlights and kitty treats. Rae happened to still be over, so she went out looking with me.
It was scary, but not as much as it might seem. We never clip his claws, for one thing--he doesn't let us get anywhere near close enough. On the other hand, he had never been allowed outside before, and we worried that he might not be able to find his way back, even if he wanted to.
I wondered aloud at one point how long it would take before I really began to notice his absense. He's not a super-affectionate cat like either of Rae's; he just sort of lies around and hides a lot and comes into contact with us only when he damn well feels like it. It might have taken a bit.
The whole thing seemed surreal, though. I'm walking in the dark with a industrial-strength lantern, but I just couldn't quite internalize the situation. I stopped once, briefly, because I needed a hug, but even then. . . I felt like my emotions had a somewhat artificial quality to them.
Thank god they never had the chance to become full-blown. I do love my kitty.
Of course, as soon as he strolled into the garage at 6 AM, my dad put the flea treatment stuff on him, so I won't actually be able to hug the little guy until later tonight.
What an interesting non-story.

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Found a great Douglas Adams quote (not from HG2G, though):
"Writing is easy. You just stare at a blank piece of paper until your forehead bleeds."

That is _so_ my new mantra.