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My Xandermog asked to go out at 9:30pm last night - a bit unusual, since he normally doesn't want to go until after his supper at 10. But he was asking, so I let him out and went back to watching Supervolcano.
He hasn't come back yet. :-((((((((( I've been up and down the road, and round the nearby ones, calling and whistling for him, rattling a box of cat biscuits. I only slept in hour-long stints last night, in my clothes, then went for another check for him. My family have all been round today helping me search. I've called all the animal rescue organisations, and all the vets. No sign.... which is good in a way, as is the fact that the council haven't found any run over cats. So hopefully he's still alive and well and all that. My cousin's sister-in-law works in that department, so she's keeping an eye out for news.
I think - I hope I know where he is, roughly. See, the first time I let him out after I moved here, he panicked and bolted down the road, round the side of the house on the end of this sort-of-block, and into their overgrown back garden where I finally (with some difficulty) caught him. So that's one of the places I've been searching, and at about 5:30pm when it had got all twilighty and I needed my torch to see into the shadier parts of the garden, I saw a cat there. A cat that looked pretty much like my Xander. I can't be sure, though, because of the distance I was away at that point, the poor light, and the fact that as soon as I started moving again and had to look away to find my footing, he vanished again. Argh!
Anyway, I'd better go and give him another call, just in case he's back in earshot (and isn't merely being a little sod and ignoring me). He's missed three meals and three doses of his epilepsy meds now. I'm almost scared to sleep in case he decides he wants to come in and I'm not awake to oblige. But I have to, really. I'm exhausted. Buggerit. I want my furry boy back. :-(
He hasn't come back yet. :-((((((((( I've been up and down the road, and round the nearby ones, calling and whistling for him, rattling a box of cat biscuits. I only slept in hour-long stints last night, in my clothes, then went for another check for him. My family have all been round today helping me search. I've called all the animal rescue organisations, and all the vets. No sign.... which is good in a way, as is the fact that the council haven't found any run over cats. So hopefully he's still alive and well and all that. My cousin's sister-in-law works in that department, so she's keeping an eye out for news.
I think - I hope I know where he is, roughly. See, the first time I let him out after I moved here, he panicked and bolted down the road, round the side of the house on the end of this sort-of-block, and into their overgrown back garden where I finally (with some difficulty) caught him. So that's one of the places I've been searching, and at about 5:30pm when it had got all twilighty and I needed my torch to see into the shadier parts of the garden, I saw a cat there. A cat that looked pretty much like my Xander. I can't be sure, though, because of the distance I was away at that point, the poor light, and the fact that as soon as I started moving again and had to look away to find my footing, he vanished again. Argh!
Anyway, I'd better go and give him another call, just in case he's back in earshot (and isn't merely being a little sod and ignoring me). He's missed three meals and three doses of his epilepsy meds now. I'm almost scared to sleep in case he decides he wants to come in and I'm not awake to oblige. But I have to, really. I'm exhausted. Buggerit. I want my furry boy back. :-(
