It's Like, Looking for a Ninja

Who am I kidding? I am looking for a ninja.

A quick, low to the ground, 12-pound, furry ninja.

It's been always in the forefront my thoughts for a good deal of the day, and it was really distracting me on my way to work. I really had to try to keep my mind occupied with other things, otherwise it would have upset me more.

What made things even more difficult is the fact that I feel like I can't do anything...I suppose, there really isn't that much one can do in a situation like this but to hope and pray my kitty is somewhere out there alive and safe, even if it means that she's being taken care of by others right now. All the same, I would be happiest if I knew exactly where she is and that she's okay.

I took some time to just stand out in the backyard, walk around a bit, do their food call in the remote hopes she's in the area and needs some coaxing for her to come out of her hiding spot. Then I went out again and put out a bowl of food in case she does come home when no one can let her back in and she's hungry...and at least she has a litter box out there too. I then went to the front, just in time to see my sister put out a bowl of food for her in the porch, and I decided to take a walk down the street in hopes that I may be able to catch her walking about.

It seems very pointless to be searching for a black cat with no collar or bell during the night, but maybe the darkness would be something that she'd take comfort in. She's always loved trying squeezing into the tightest crevices, and maybe she's out there suck in one...but I would think she'd know better and make a fuss and let her presence known. But as I walked down the street, I'd always stop and search, as my mind and my hopes would deceive me, making me believe a flicker of light reflected in the shadows could be her eyes peering at me, or a dark spot could be her crouched behind a trash bin. As I would make the call, I was hoping that even though she may be afraid, she'd at least hear something familiar to her and come running to me, where she'd be welcomed back by my sister and her brother, both of whom obviously miss her.

There is a cynical part of me in the back of my mind, eating at this whole situation, thinking I'm making a bigger deal out of it than it is. But I'm not. It's hard not to care about this little thing you helped raise from when she still had her umbilical cord attached to her, feed her, act as her mama's tongue to induce her evacuation of waste, worry that she wouldn't know how to be a cat and then watch her become this little character that endeared herself to the whole family, even my cat-hating mom. She's the closest thing I've had to a baby, and knowing that someone out there could have just taken her and is/has done God knows what to her (good or bad), it drives me batty. Because she needs to be here, with her brother, my sister, my dad and mom.

I just want my baby girl back.