Almost three weeks ago, right before Thanksgiving, our cat Figaro ran away.
I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to do it; he just wanted to poke around outside for a while, the way inside cats do. But he darted out late at night and wouldn’t come back no matter how much my older daughter Megan (who is effectively the Keeper of the Cat) cajoled him.
I fully expected him to come back the next day, but he didn’t. He apparently got lost in the wilderness near our apartment. Days passed and we couldn’t find him, partially because we didn’t have a flashlight and night is the best time to look for a missing cat.
I was certain after a week that we’d never see him again. But Megan refused to give up, going out night after night to look for him.
A few nights ago Jamie and I were at the store and we remembered to pick up a flashlight. That night Jamie and Megan went out and thought they saw a cat that looked like Figaro, but they couldn’t get close to him.
Then, Saturday night, Megan went out again to look for him with the flashlight.
She returned sobbing with joy, Figaro in her arms. He was thin as a rail but otherwise unharmed.
We are all very happy to have our cat back for Christmas.