Come Home, Kitty. Come Home

I am starting to pack for my trip to Iceland. I have an adventure I want to write about before I leave, but before I can do that, I want to write about my cat, Daisy.

I've dedicated this blog to my adventures. Not all adventures are exciting, and not all of them are happy ones. At times, living life can be adventure enough. 

Daisy was a feral kitty I adopted 6 years ago, by opening my door. She walked through, and I shut the door. She was affectionate & playful. She was a chill kind of cat that made me think all cats were so easy to be around, until I adopted Lola. 

I took Daisy up to Alaska with me and then drove down with her a month ago. She seemed

to adjust to the new living situation, although scared of the new humans around her. You see, while Daisy loved me, she was by no means tamed. She was too scared of people. She tolerated Dakota and she tolerated Lola, but she never loved them.

And it really wasn't a surprise when she ran out of the garage last Friday night. My brother had opened the garage door to bring in his motorcycle. Normally, Daisy ran into the house, but on that night, she ran to her freedom. We are surrounded by open space and giant hills for miles. 

She is microchipped. Shelters have been called, fliers put up, and a search went on. I even sat out for hours with the garage door open waiting for her to slip quietly in. 

But as much as I wish to see her again, I think this is the last story of Daisy. I think she went back to being feral. I think she was always feral, but tried the best she could to be happy. I imagine she feels a sense of freedom no longer having to tolerate any creature if she doesn't want to. 

I just hope she's warm & fed well. She's spayed, and that allows me to feel some gladness for her. At least I won't be contributing to the large number of unwanted feral cats. Yes, there's one new feral cat out there, but she's wanted. I would take her back in a heartbeat. 

I miss my cat. She was an easy cat, compared to the terror that is Lola. I feel a sense of loss...missing an important part of my little family unit. My pets aren't just pets. They are my furbabies. 

My cat ran away. Never thought I'd deal with this. I'd gladly take on the heartbreak of some stupid man over losing a furbaby, especially with no real closure. She may be okay. She may be dead. She may come back one night. I will keep an eye out, but my heart's not in it.

Goodbye Daisy. If you ever get tired of hiding, or hungry, you know where to find me.