As you may know, I based the Scottie character in my The Cat Behind The Curtain: A Cozy Cat Crime Caper on my real cat, Scottie. Below is part one of the true story of how Scottie went missing.
Me & Scottie in Earlier Times
Gone Cat (Part One)
My son burst into my bedroom and woke me up with a start. It was about midnight.
“Dad, I think Scottie got out,” he said.
Throwing the covers off of me, I snapped out of bed. The groggies fell away and I stood up alert.
“What happened?” I asked him.
“The door was open and I can’t find him.”
“What about the other cats?” They’re all indoor cats.
“They’re all here – except Scottie.” When I got Scottie, he was an outdoor cat. I turned him into an indoor feline.
We left the bedroom and searched the house. Nothing. I went down to the door and looked outside. The wind blew on this dark, spring night. I called out for him. Nothing. I couldn’t help thinking, He’s not coming back.
“Scottie,” I called again. No movement in the dim light.
I went back inside. I asked my son how the door got open. He hadn’t closed it all the way so it didn’t latch and the breeze blew it open.
“There’s no way we’ll find him tonight. I’m going back to bed. Maybe he’ll show up in the morning when he’s hungry,” I said to my son. The next morning, Scottie remained gone.
I called my mother and told her the situation. She suggested making up posters with Scottie’s picture and description and my phone number. My daughter recommended I put him on Facebook. I did both. And I called the local pound and SPCA. They had not seen him but would look out for him. Scottie had been micro chipped so he’d be easily identified – even though he looked like most silver and black Tabbies.
That afternoon, my mother and I put up the posters around the neighborhood, searching and calling for Scottie. The sun shone, the weather beautiful. But we didn’t find my kitty, and my concern grew the longer he was gone.
A day later, I got a call. A neighbor lady said she’d thought she’d seen Scottie.
“I hate to tell you this, but I think your cat might have been hit by a car yesterday morning,” the woman caller said.
The morning after Scottie got out, a Tabby had been hit and killed by a car a few houses away. My heart pounded in my throat. Was it Scottie?
She explained another neighbor – a man she didn’t know – discarded the cat’s body before the morning kids could see it while they waited for the school bus.
“I’m sorry. But it did look like your cat,” she said.
“But you’re not sure?” I said, hoping she was wrong.
“No, I’m not sure.”
A big breath escaped my lips.
He could still be alive.
END OF PART ONE
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