Glancing Over My Shoulder

Guppy is still missing. Francois and I are starting to think that we may be cat-less... And it's getting both of us down in a big way. We're still hopeful that she'll waltz back into the house at any moment, but it's already been three days since she's disappeared, and things are looking dismal.

Every time that I walk up or down the stairs, I find myself peering outside trying to spot her. While washing my hands in the bathroom, I mistake various logs and leaves for her body and paws. Driving home today, I saw something dark in the middle of the road, and slowed down as I drove by, but (thankfully) it was just a pile of fabric. Francois takes his shoes off and I spin my head around as they squeak on the wooden floor. Trying to fall asleep, the combination of fridge noises from downstairs, with the natural rumblings of Francois' stomach, trick my brain into hearing her purring.

Every noise that I hear, and every rustling bush that I see, makes me think that Guppy is about to tumble into sight. I keep expecting to see her prancing towards me from behind the nearest shrub.

I'm not really worried anymore. Either she's been lured into living with a family that will love her better than us, or something very sad has happened. Either way, there's nothing left to worry about... There's just missing her, and feeling depressed that our kitty cat has gone.

I don't want to say goodbye to Guppy. But I think that that's exactly what this post has become.

Okay. I'm going to go cuddle with Francois now, watch some stupid series and drink hot chocolate with coffee liqueur. It may not be the big distraction I'd like it to be, but it'll help to fend off the cold, at least.