#oneaday Day 740: Exhaustion

I am absolutely exhausted. We stayed up late last night to go on another night-time look for Oliver, and once again found absolutely no sign of him whatsoever. At this point I really am at a loss as to what I can possibly do. I bought bright head-mounted torches and an infra-red heat-sensing camera in the hopes that they will make it easier to see a cat hiding, but given that we have no idea which way he went or how far he's gone in the last two and a half weeks, it feels very much like finding a needle in a haystack, and the emotional exhaustion of simply not knowing if anything we are doing is actually worthwhile is very much manifesting itself as physical exhaustion.

person in black shirt lying on a white sofa — Photo by www.kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

This is one of those times where I feel like I need to have a word with my inner self, and say that it's okay to look after me. Oliver is important, and we desperately want to find him, but if the process of searching for him, worrying about him and generally running ourselves completely ragged is having an impact on our physical wellbeing, it's probably time to take a little break, at least for one evening. Patti is also sad, upset and clearly worried about us.

We have done everything that the people who copy-paste the exact same comments onto every single "missing pet" Facebook post suggest. We have put things that he likes and things that smell of him outside, we have put food outside (which, on separate occasions, got eaten by another neighbourhood cat, and attracted a fox), we have left open the window that we believe he escaped through, we have been out calling softly for him, we have sat out in the garden having a normal conversation so he can hear us, we have motion sensors on our security cameras set to notify us the moment they see an animal.

At this point my only real possible conclusions are that he is locked in somewhere and hasn't been found yet — which, with every passing day, makes me very concerned for his wellbeing; that he has been taken by someone, either because they saw a lovely cat looking lost and thought they'd take care of it, or because of more nefarious purposes, which I don't like to think about (but also feel is probably quite unlikely); or that he is no longer with us, in which case I feel like he probably would have been found by now.

I know I keep repeating myself, but hopefully my post yesterday makes it clear why. I do not feel like I can "continue" with my life while I don't know what has happened to my precious boy. And I'm worried that I am going to be left feeling like this for a long time. What if we just… don't hear anything at all? What then? Are we stuck in a perpetual limbo of hoping that he'll just make it home somehow, seemingly against all odds? Or do we attempt to make our peace with the situation, try and say as best a goodbye as we can in his absence, and try to move on?

I can't bring myself to do the last one. Not yet, anyway. I still feel like one evening, we're just going to see him saunter around the corner as if nothing happened. It does sometimes end up like this, and I am hoping that this is one of those situations. But with every passing day, it's harder to hold on to that hope.

I'm off to try and distract myself. Tonight I will be having a go at Adventure of Samsara, Atari's exploratory platformer that apparently has some connections to the 2600 version of Adventure. Hopefully it takes my mind off things for a bit at least.

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#oneaday Day 737: Returning to reality

We go home tomorrow, which is going to be somewhat bittersweet, as I'm sure you can imagine. There has been absolutely no sign of Oliver over the course of the last week, no contact from anyone who has seen him, no sightings reported on social media and — perhaps thankfully? — no reports that he has passed away. So I choose to believe that he is still out there, somewhere, just waiting for us to find him. Perhaps it's all a game to him. He does love a game.

grayscale photography of concrete road during daytime — Photo by Airam Vargas on Pexels.com

I am, of course, still absolutely sick with worry. It has been two weeks today that he went missing, and whatever happens, I am always, always going to be wondering if there was more we could have done — more we should have done. There are zillions of online resources out there saying what you "should" do when a cat goes missing, but a significant proportion of them appear to be AI-generated drivel and pseudoscience.

I am not willing to give up on him, though. At this point, it feels like it will be unlikely that he will come home by himself for whatever reason, but I still want to go looking for him and will be doing so when we return home tomorrow. I don't know if I will be able to achieve anything — over the course of two weeks, it's entirely possible he could have gone a long way, although most supposed "experts" (with the caveat above) seem to believe that cats who spend the majority of their time indoors, as Oliver did, won't have actually ventured very far, and are probably hiding silently somewhere they feel is "safe". This, unfortunately, makes them extremely difficult to track down; the most supposedly reliable advice appears to be to bring things that are "familiar" to them — things that they recognise the smell or sound of.

Part of me is concerned that he has simply been taken by someone. Not necessarily stolen as such, but perhaps he was seen somewhere, the owner didn't think to get his microchip checked, and now thinks that they have a wonderful new cat in their family. If that has happened, I have absolutely no idea how we would go about finding him — although if this has happened, his status will be flagged up if and when he is taken to the vets or a shelter or something, and that, in turn, would allow us to be reunited. But that, of course, depends on the person in question thinking to take him to a vet or shelter — if indeed this is the situation in which he has found himself.

As I've said repeatedly over the course of the last two weeks, though, the absolutely impossible thing throughout all this is just not knowing anything. What made him jump out of the window? Which way did he go? Was he just exploring, or was he running from something? Is he hurt? Is he hungry? Has he been taking care of himself for the last two weeks? Has someone else been taking care of him for the last two weeks? I don't have any answers, and these myriad questions swirling around my brain are driving me absolutely spare.

I'm supposed to be going back to work on Tuesday, and it'll be right back into a difficult, stressful time, too. Honestly I'm not sure I'm going to be able to cope. I am wracked with pain, sadness, guilt, anger, frustration and all manner of other emotions, and I still don't really know how to process any of them, or how to direct any of them in a vaguely productive direction — either for getting some work done, or for tracking down our precious boy.

As with any difficult time, I guess it's just going to have to be a "one step at a time" sort of situation. I want to think this is all going to end happily and become a funny story to share in the years to come, but I am also fearing the worst. I don't want to lose him. He is so, so precious to me.

There is nothing I can do from where I am right now, though. Tomorrow is a new day, and we can decide what we need to do from there. So the best thing I can probably do at the moment is get some rest and try to come to tomorrow as alert and refreshed as is possible under the circumstances.

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#oneaday Day 733: Distractions

Today we went to the swimming pool, the central attraction of most Center Parcs sites. We had a good time having a little swim in the nice warm outdoor "Sprudel pool" and sitting stewing in the outdoor jacuzzi for a bit. For the rest of the day, we've been trying to relax as best we can: eating good food, watching the wildlife out of the window, and in my case, finally getting around to replaying Ace Attorney: Trials & Tribulations in its Nintendo Switch incarnation. The last time I played this, it was on DS, so it's nice to play it on the big screen.

Pic, again, unrelated, but I thought you might like to see a deer.

The distractions have been good and welcome, but it's still tough, I don't think either of us will deny that. But we are at least managing to have a reasonably good time while we're away, which is the important thing. In some respects it might even be a good thing that we don't hear anything while we're away, as it means that the worst hasn't happened — or if it has, no-one has found him as yet. That means, I like to think, that he's still out there somewhere, waiting to be found — or perhaps just waiting to wander his way back one day and saunter in as if nothing had happened.

Stranger things have happened, as I've said a few times before; cats are well-known for their independence, after all, and even my beloved family pet from when I was a child disappeared for six whole weeks once, apparently. I don't remember this at all; I guess I must have been too young to remember when it happened. I do remember the time she got hit by a car and fled into a bush in a nearby field; we managed to track her down, get her to the vet, and she eventually made a full recovery, going on to live a very long, full and happy 17 years of life.

But still. As I keep saying, it almost doesn't bear thinking about right now, as far away from the situation as we are in physical terms. And I think we are slowly coming to terms with various unfortunate truths… or at least possibilities. None of them are particularly nice possibilities to contemplate, and thinking about them too much still upsets the both of us… but we are, gradually, bit by bit, able to get through each day without becoming completely non-functional.

It remains to be seen how we'll be when we get back, of course, depending on what — if anything — has transpired in the meantime. I feel like the best case scenario at this point is that he's found wandering around somewhere, taken to a vet, gets his microchipped scanned (which will immediately flag him both as missing and as living with us) and will thus be able to return to us safe and sound. But that is, I am aware, a very optimistic hope for how this will all end up.

I guess there's no point wondering "what if". The human brain doesn't work that way, however; the human brain, it seems, is uniquely designed to wonder "what if" as much as possible, as often as possible. And it's a function that, at least in my brain, it's near-impossible to turn off.

Still. It's the end of another day and, as always, we continue. Tomorrow is yet another day, and it remains to be seen what it will bring.

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#oneaday Day 731: Temporary escape

Well, we did what we said we were going to do: we got away from it all. Part of me still wants to be at home waiting with open arms for Oliver to return, but it's been a week. At this point I don't know if he's more or less likely to make it home by himself after this long; apparently typically "indoor" cats tend to return home after about 5-7 days away if they go walkabout like this, but we have something of a suspicion that Oliver, from a previous life (i.e. before he moved in with us) has some memories of Being Outside, hence his apparent eagerness to go wandering off.

Regardless, we are some distance away from, practically speaking, being able to do anything about his disappearance right now, so all we can do is attempt to enjoy ourselves. We are safely ensconced in our villa, the weather is nice, and this is the view out of the back door:

Green. Green everywhere. It is nice. I feel a certain affinity for foresty settings. I have always liked coming to Center Parcs precisely because they're all slap bang in the middle of a forest, and when I was a youngster, I always used to like trips to Waresley Wood, a nearby small woods that also, as I recall, played host to a sewage works, which was nice. You could tell which way you were going from the smell in certain areas.

I always feel somewhat mixed feelings about being out in nature. I certainly, on the whole, enjoy the experience of being in natural surroundings, and find the general environment to be rather relaxing. At the same time, though, I am always very conscious of the number of things that live in Nature that are more than willing to sting me, bite me or just generally make me very itchy. And these things are not always immediately apparent — though I do tend to tread specifically carefully when I'm in an unfamiliar and somewhat "untamed" environment; memories of enduring the irritation of a brush with some stinging nettles as a kid remain surprisingly vibrant, and I'm not keen to repeat them as a grown adult.

I am hoping the time away will help us. We have been so worried for the last week that it's just completely exhausted the pair of us. As I type this, Andie has just climbed into bed and gone to sleep. It is not even 6.30pm, but I do not blame her one bit. We have been fretting so much over our silly little man, and both of us are still worrying over him, even though we've both agreed that to just go ahead with our time away is the best possible thing we can do with regard to our own self-care.

And like I've said before: Andie's mum is looking after our house and Patti while we are away, so if Oliver does happen to show his face — or if we hear from someone who has seen him — she can take any sort of action that might be needed. Hopefully, that action will just be "shut the little bugger in and seal up all the windows for the rest of eternity" but… well, as I've said numerous times over the last week, we just don't know.

Anyway, I am going to make a specific effort to try and enjoy my holiday now. We miss you, Oliver, and we would love it if we would be able to come home to your smiling face on our return next week. For now, please be safe, take care of yourself… and go make a lot of noise at a sympathetic-looking person who will help you be reunited with us.

We have no particular plans for the rest of the day. I'm off to see if Andie actually wants to wake up at all today, or if we might as well start our holiday properly from tomorrow!

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#oneaday Day 730: Having to draw a line

I have posted more than 30 more flyers about Oliver today. Andie's mum went out calling for him last night. We have put out adverts on social media, informed the microchip company, informed our local vets, informed local cat charities. We have spent several nights staying up waiting, placing stinky pants, litter trays, favourite food and treats outside. We have wandered around the neighbourhood in multiple directions shaking treats and calling for him. At this point I think we have no other option than to draw a line and say that we have done everything we possibly can do for the little bugger, and the only thing really left is just… to wait.

yellow line between feet — Photo by Oleh Budurov on Pexels.com

It's not giving up. It's an acknowledgement that we have made an effort to try and find him, and thus far those efforts have been unsuccessful. This could mean any of a number of things: that he's no longer with us; that he doesn't want to be found; that he's gone far enough afield that we haven't been able to run into him as yet; that he's lost and doesn't know how to find his way home; that he's ended up locked in somewhere he shouldn't be; or that someone has taken him in, perhaps even thinking "ooh, I always wanted a cat, I'll keep this one".

Since we don't know the exact reason we have been unsuccessful as yet, it seems like the most sensible thing to do is just to wait and see if any of the seeds we have planted — by which I mean the social media posts, the leaflets, the informing of various local organisations — will bear fruit. This may end in tragedy — I hope it won't, but it might — or it may end in joyous reunion (and a very, very grounded cat). At this point, we just don't know, and as I've said numerous times over the course of the last week, that is one of the most difficult things about the entire situation.

Because we don't know what has happened, we're left in a strange sort of emotional limbo, where all the things we want to feel are both correct and incorrect at the same time. For me, the things that I am holding onto the most are 1) that he hasn't been found, having been hit by a car, on the side of the road somewhere, and thus is hopefully still out there somewhere, and that 2) there are many, many stories of cats who go missing for weeks at a time, who then subsequently come home safe and sound. Apparently my childhood cat, Penny, disappeared for six full weeks at one point, because she had "moved in" with another family. My only concern about this latter potential situation is how to find him if this has happened, and if the people he is with are honest enough to get his microchip scanned and return him to us.

But here, at nearly 7pm on Sunday night, the day before we're going away on holiday, I think I have to draw a line and say "that's everything I can do… for now". Andie's mum is holding the fort while we are away, so if he does turn up he will have a welcoming face ready to spoil him rotten, and if he still hasn't shown up by the time we return, we can continue our efforts to search for him then.

As I say, it's not giving up. It's giving ourselves permission to take a step away from what has been a horrible, stressful week, and to give ourselves some very much needed self-care. I sincerely hope this story has a happy ending, but for now, I guess it is on a hiatus of sorts.

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#oneaday Day 727: The longest days

In the grand scheme of things, it has only been a few days since Oliver went missing, but it feels like an absolute eternity. I am still refusing to give up on him — in fact, after I type this, I'm going to go out for a bit again — but it is getting very difficult to know what to do. Should I stay around the local area, given that we have seen absolutely no sign of him? Or should we spread our search a little further afield? There's a sports centre nearby that probably has lots of bushes a cat could hide in, so I think I might wander up in that direction this evening. In the absence of any sort of clues whatsoever, I can't think of anything else to do, other than to just go around the same area we've covered for the last few nights.

Apparently mostly indoor cats are inclined to head for home after around 5-7 days of being away, and indeed in the various Facebook and Nextdoor groups I've been dropping into over the course of the last few days, there are a lot of reports of cats that just turned up again after roughly this long — a lot more reports in that regard than those that remained missing for longer, or which… I don't even want to say it, even though I know it is a distinct possibility, especially the longer he is absent.

I guess the one thing I can vaguely take heart from is that because Oliver is microchipped (as is the law now, I believe), if he was to be found, we would have heard something. And we have not heard anything, which means that he is still out there somewhere. What state he's in, I have no idea, but he is still out there somewhere. And I just have to try and cling on to that for now.

Every time Patti looks out of the window, I am hoping that I'll just see his cheeky face looking back up at us, as if to say "what?" Every time our cameras report that there is movement outside, I hope that I'll see him sauntering around the corner as if nothing had happened. Every noise I hear outside, I hope I'll see his little golden eyes shining back at me.

I guess we just have to keep looking, keep hoping and keep waiting. Andie's mum is coming down on Saturday to help us keep looking if we haven't already been able to find him (or if he hasn't already found us). She was coming down anyway to look after the cats while we go away, so we are just going to try and enjoy our holiday as best we can under the circumstances, since it is too late for us to cancel and get a refund, otherwise we would have done that. That means someone is here while we are away, and will be able to keep an eye out for him, be here if he suddenly decides or manages to come home, and be able to go pick him up or whatever is needed if someone finds him and calls him in.

My heart is broken and my mood is pitch black. I don't know what to do. No-one prepares you for something like this, because there is no way you can prepare someone for something like this. All I can really do is refuse to give up completely. Our little man must have some street smarts; our little man must be able to find his way home. He must. He must.

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#oneaday Day 726: False hope

We have run into a ginger cat in the area where our caller yesterday reported seeing him (we think it was a "him" anyway) — both at night and, just now, in the daytime, and unfortunately, it was not Oliver. This cat was a very good cat, and quite friendly — though also a tad skittish — but it became clear before long that it wasn't our little boy.

We were extremely torn when we came across him last night, as the darkness made it difficult to see him clearly, and obviously, looking out, as we are, for a young ginger cat and then suddenly seeing one… well, you want to hope for the best, don't you? Both of us were feeling such desperation to see Oliver again that we were both having serious doubts about whether or not this cat, standing in front of us, was our special little man. Regretfully, we left him to it, as it looked like his home was somewhere near where we were looking — and when I ran into him earlier today, in the daytime, when it was much easier to see, I confirmed that it wasn't him. It didn't stop me involuntarily gasping when I first saw him come around the corner… but that hope was quickly dashed.

All this, of course, doesn't mean that he's not still out there somewhere, but it does mean that our one promising-seeming lead turned out to be unhelpful, and that is immensely demoralising. Andie is near-inconsolable right now, and I'm pretty sure if I stop Doing Things I will get into a similar state. That's why I went out on the trip where I ran into our ginger friend earlier; I can't just sit here and do nothing.

I'm gradually spreading the word online. Turns out there are quite a few places online where you can report missing pets, and not just Facebook. Some of these places want you to pay a bit, but the cost is primarily for them making a social media ad and then "boosting" it on your behalf. Don't worry, I researched all these places thoroughly before giving them any details. Naturally they want to try and reassure you that they have a solid success rate at this sort of thing, but we're both finding it very difficult right now.

Why hasn't he come home? Where has he gone? Is he hurt? Is he — and this is, of course, the one that hurts the most to consider — even still alive? The absolute worst thing about all this is not knowing. The one faint hope I cling to is that there are so many reports of cats that wandered off one evening and came back about 5-7 days later as if nothing had happened. I am hoping beyond hope that this is what will happen with Oliver — though it would be nice if he'd consider doing this a bit sooner.

As I say, the worst thing is not knowing, because it means I don't know how I should be feeling. Should I be hopeful? Should I be worried? Should I be sad? Should I be angry? Should I give up? Or should I keep believing that it'll all work out, somehow.

Unfortunately, bitter life experience has taught me that it does not, in fact, always work out, somehow. And thus, once again, we continue. Because that's all we can do.

I'm sorry this is all I'm talking about at the moment. But this is all I can think about at the moment.

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#oneaday Day 725: A spark of hope

Oliver still hasn't come back. We are, of course, still extremely worried and upset, and this is made all the more difficult by the fact that Patti has clearly realised something is wrong, too. She is very obviously looking around to try and find him, and earlier she let out an absolutely plaintive wail of a meow that made my heart absolutely break. I know, Patti. I want to make noises like that, too. But there is, at least, a faint spark of hope.

We've previously posted Oliver's picture and details on some local Facebook pages — the one thing Facebook is actually still vaguely useful for — and earlier today we took around a bunch of flyers to the houses and flats in the nearby vicinity. In the mid-afternoon I got a call from someone down the road; they weren't sure it was Oliver, but they had definitely seen a ginger cat on their back wall recently, and thought that he was "a very friendly chap".

Now, we're trying not to get our hopes up too much, because we know there is another ginger cat in the neighbourhood. The lady who called sounded like she hadn't seen the cat she saw before, however, which leads me to believe that it might, just might have been Oliver. There's also the fact that Andie has apparently encountered "the other ginger cat" and said that it was rather skittish as opposed to friendly; Oliver, meanwhile, has always got along with absolutely everyone he meets, and the personality of the cat our caller described very much sounded like him.

So we have not given up. We cannot give up. I refuse to give up. My heart is battered and bruised and broken from the last few days, and it is difficult to derive any joy from anything. But I cannot give up. I will not give up. He must be out there somewhere, and all we need to do is bring him home.

I do not yet know how we are going to do that, or indeed where he is. But this one little happening today helped me feel just one little spark of hope about the whole situation, and that is something that has been sorely needed since late on Sunday night.

I, of course, do not know how this particular episode of our lives is going to turn out. There is always the possibility that it will end in tragedy, and that is something I don't think I am prepared for. But, as my therapist has said to me on multiple occasions now, I am a survivor, and while I have faced many hardships on life's journey to date, I have made it through all of them so far.

I don't want to have to keep being a survivor, though. I want things to be nice, and happy, and free of worry, and neat. Life, however, is far from neat; simple existence is one of the messiest things imaginable, and I have not yet figured out how — or even if it's possible — to tidy it up.

And so, we continue. For now, we continue, not knowing. Tonight we will walk the streets once again in search of our beloved little man. And tomorrow is another day, whatever that might bring.

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#oneaday Day 724: Our cat is missing

Last night, one of the many "worst nightmare" situations a pet owner can encounter occurred: we realised that one of our beloved cats, the 3-year old ginger Oliver, was not anywhere to be seen. He often roams around the house a bit when it comes to our bedtime, so I wasn't initially concerned; I can usually find him if I go and poke about a bit. He's not a "hider" by any means; in fact, at the witching hour, he's normally playing around. He is an indoor cat, though, so aside from his enclosed "catio" in the back garden, which he can access via a cat flap, he's not allowed out.

I became worried when I couldn't find him as quickly as I normally do, and he wasn't responding to me calling him. And thus our only conclusion is that somehow, he managed to escape, quite possibly through one of the windows we had open for ventilation. We obviously don't like to think he'd be dumb enough to fling himself out of an upstairs window, but he is a very curious boy and we have caught him sticking his head out for a look on more than one occasion.

We searched the house, including all the hiding spots we knew of. Our other cat, Patti, very much is a hider, and thus we have a pretty good understanding of the various nooks and crannies a cat can potentially get into in our house. He didn't appear to be in any of them — and he's the sort of cat who, if he got stuck somewhere, I feel would probably make some noise, particularly if we were calling for him and shaking a packet of treats.

We also checked our home security cameras, and saw that he went upstairs at just before 10.30PM. The cameras did not appear to record him coming down again, leading us to believe that he is either upstairs (seemingly unlikely, as our search would suggest) or he went out one of the upstairs windows that a cat could squeeze through with a bit of effort. The cameras could have just missed him, of course, but they're generally pretty good at catching both him and Patti.

So we did what cat owners do in this situation, and we didn't go to bed for a long time, taking a couple of wanders around the neighbourhood in the hope that we might either find him or be able to coax him out. We eventually called it a night at well after 2AM, as we both had to work in the morning and we thought we should probably at least try and get some sleep. (That didn't really happen.)

We got up again about 5AM for another look around — again, no sign of him. Or at 9AM, either. In some ways, this is mildly reassuring; we hadn't found him injured (or worse) anywhere, which leads me to the optimistic conclusion — I have to be optimistic, I have to be — that he's gone and got himself locked in someone's shed, garage, greenhouse or whatever. We've done another few "rounds" throughout the day, reported his microchip number as missing (so if someone turns him in to a vet or cat shelter or something, they can get him back to us) and posted on a few local Facebook groups. Nothing as yet, and we are both despairing.

Oliver is such a precious little boy. He is everything to us. (Apart from the bit of everything that belongs to Patti, who is also everything to us.) I feel sick to my stomach (quite literally; I've barely eaten anything all day) not knowing where he is, whether he's hurt, whether he's scared, whether he's trapped or anything really. As I say, I have to remain optimistic; I have to just tell myself that this is something that sometimes happens when you have cats — I've spoken to a lot of people who have been through this experience today, with some being left not knowing what to think for months — and I cannot, will not give up hope on my precious little boy.

It's just the absolute worst that this has happened during both a stressful time at work, and just before Andie and I are going away on holiday. The last thing we want while we're supposed to be away relaxing is not knowing what has happened to one of our beloved pets — members of our family.

If you happen to be in the Southampton area, particularly around Lordswood, here's a flyer we're going to put through some doors tomorrow. If, by some fortuitous combination of circumstances, you happen to see him, please get in touch.

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#oneaday Day 422: Escape artist

We were quite surprised during dinner to see the outline of our cat, Oliver, on the other side of our living room window. Oliver is an indoor cat but has a curiosity about the outside world, so Andie built him (and Patti) a catio out the back so he can stay safe and secure while still being able to enjoy the feeling of being outside.

The concern we have is, as you might expect, exactly how the little bugger managed to get out, given that there are no windows open downstairs, and I'm pretty sure the only window we have open upstairs is the one we stick the air conditioning hose out of. This, to me, suggests that he jumped out of an upstairs window and, via some means that isn't yet entirely clear, made it down to our lounge window.

Thankfully, we got him to come back in without any difficulty, but this is, of course, a little worrying, particularly since we've kept all our cats inside ever since we lost Ruby on the road some years ago. He's never done this before, and we think he only did it this time because he saw another cat out the front and wanted to go and meet them — although, hilariously, despite this other cat being a pretty small, young thing, he seemed to be quite frightened of it — but still, it's obviously not behaviour we're particularly keen to encourage.

LIVE UPDATE! Andie has just checked our security camera footage, and it transpires that he just snuck out behind me when I was putting some things in the outside bin. He went out just as I was closing the door and I didn't notice, so he ended up shut out the front. Thankfully, it was only for a few minutes, and he seemingly knew that the front window was a good place to get our attention. So clever him, but also naughty him for sneaking out when he knows he's not allowed out the front!

Well, all's well that ends well, I guess. At least now I don't have to have a sleepless night worrying if he's going to fling himself out of a second-storey window because he saw something interesting outside. And hopefully he learned something from this whole experience.

Who am I kidding? He's a cheeky little cat, is what he is. He will have learned nothing from this. But it doesn't matter. I love the stupid little dickhead anyway.

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