The snow and my lost little kitty

Why I thought I'd lost my beloved pet to the white stuff

As a writer I am at home working for most of the day, so there was no change of routine for me when the snow came this week. I'm not the worlds biggest fan of the fluffy white stuff, but my cat Bobby loves it! In fact he adores it so much, this weekend he got lost in it. On Friday afternoon, Bob had been out playing in the snow for most of that day. But he normally likes to have a little run-around in the garden at about fivein the afternoon.

But he didn't come home that evening, or later on for that matter. Forced to put on my wellies and thick winter jacket, I ventured out into the snow. The thought of doing this filled me with dread but it had to be done. What if he was trapped somewhere? Stuck in someone's shed? Cats are notoriously good at getting themselves into trouble. Armed with the Go-Cat box I took the first step into the wilds of my snow covered garden.

It was getting dark so time was of the essence. I shook the box of Go-Cat with all the power that my weak arm muscles could muster. "BOBBY!" I screamed over and over, but nothing...

Absolutely everywhere was checked: the shed, the bushes, underneath that pile of old wooden planks that has become an unofficial animal shelter at the back of the garden.

Once every square inch was covered I then started out on the streets in my area. As a one-woman search party I must have covered well over five miles in the dark. This wasn't easy and I had fallen on my backside at least half a dozen times. At about ten in the evening I decided to give up for the day and made my way back home, heartbroken and very sad.

Saturday was spend in much the same way, I had knocked on the doors of neighbours urging them to check their sheds. Yet another night was spent in worry, wondering if he had made it and was safe. Was he lying in a ditch somewhere? Had he frozen to death? The thought didn't bear thinking about!

Sunday morning I awoke with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. It had been more or less three days out in arctic temperatures, and I had to face the truth he wasn't coming home.

I found myself looking for him in his cat bed, like I did every morning. Glancing up to the front door to see if he was there was also a natural instinct - and there he was as clear as day! I rubbed my eyes thinking I was dreaming, I had convinced myself that he was gone for good. Looking a little skinnier than normal I rushed to let him in. He shot to his food bowl and devoured his dinner, coming back for seconds. He was given a though checking over for injuries, but he was fine. I cried with total joy! Bobby has not been let out of my sight since - and he won't be until the snow and ice melts!