We spent Independence Day last Friday with extended family at my Aunt Patty’s house, where the usual food consumption and fireworks ignition played out as in so many years past.
The only thing missing was my brother Jeremy since the main reason to look forward to the fourth of July in our family is the possibility of seeing Jeremy do something stupid like running backwards into the plastic pool that not five minutes earlier our mother had deemed off-limits. Also catching his head on fire with a bottle rocket.
But those are stories for another day.
We wrapped up the festivities at Aunt Patty’s house around ten o’clock and headed for home. The kids were worn out so the ten minute ride was quiet and eventless until we pulled into the driveway and Jake started yelling about the headlights had just passed over something in the neighbor’s front yard that looked like a cat that looked like Pete. Only he didn’t use the actual words cat and Pete, but instead made hand gestures and mumbling sounds since, as he later explained, he didn’t want to get the girls’ hopes up in case he was wrong. He occasionally plays the role of the caring, compassionate big brother. Bless his heart.
Anyway, Rob and I leapt from the truck but the cat took off in the opposite direction before we even got one good look at it. Fortunately, that would not be our last sighting.
SIGHTING NUMBER TWO
Two evenings later, on Sunday, Rob passed out his usual goodnight kisses and headed for work. Less than a minute later, he burst back into the house, wild-eyed, panting, and babbling about having just seen the cat again. Only, unlike Jake, his actual words were “I just saw Pete.”
He had been close enough to ascertain that the feline in question was a gray tabby with green eyes and the spitting image of our Pete, but the cat bolted before he could check to see if it was front declawed and neutered. Ahh, smart like Pete too.
Anyway, we were disappointed that the cat had eluded our capture again, but hopeful that we might actually still bring Pete home. Before I went to bed, I put a pile of cat food on a paper plate out in the garage and opened the garage door a few inches.
THE PLAN
Yesterday morning, I went out to check the cat food to find it half eaten. This had the immediate effect of causing the hamster wheels in my brain to start spinning. I called Rob.
“Hey,” I said, “I have a plan to catch Pete.”
“Really?” he asked, intrigued, “What?”
“When I go to bed tonight, I’m going to crack the garage door and leave food out like last night, but I’m also going to put the baby monitor out there next to the plate. And I’m going to sleep with the baby monitor and the garage door opener next to me. Then if the cat comes back I’ll hear it through the monitor and I’ll close the garage door.”
Rob thought about it for a few seconds.
“That could work,” he replied.
“I know, right?”
“Yeah. But that could also catch you a possum.”
THE TRAP
So at bedtime last night, Jenna helped me set up my little trap.
On a related note, our dadgum baby monitor is crazy farking sensitive so as to cause THREE FALSE ALARMS before we even made it to bed. I think it must have picked up on our neighbor eating popcorn from his living room sofa.
At around 3:30 am, I woke to the sound of Jake eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. BUT! WAIT! one of the voices in my head yelled. Jake would not be eating Cap’n Crunch at 3:30 am on the other end of the baby monitor IN THE GARAGE.
The next thirty seconds of my life after that realization: (read and picture in slow-mo):
BEDSIDE LAMP ON — PRESS GARAGE DOOR OPENER BUTTON — NOTHING — PRESS AGAIN — NOTHING — RUN TO LAUNDRY ROOM — PRESS GARAGE DOOR OPENER BUTTON LIKE LIFE DEPENDS ON IT — GARAGE DOOR DESCENDS — THROW OPEN DOOR TO GARAGE — SEE A TAIL SWOOSH — CLICK ON OVERHEAD GARAGE LIGHTS — SEE CAT NO! WAIT! SEE PETE SCURRY TO THE (CLOSED AND LOCKED) GARAGE WINDOW — RUN INTO HOUSE AND GRAB PHONE — CALL ROB — SCREAM INTO RECEIVER “I DID IT!!!! I CAUGHT PETE!!!! IT’S PETE!!!! IT’S HIM!!!! I DID IT!!!! — COLLAPSE AND CRY.
THE HAPPY ENDING
Now granted Pete was none too happy for the first minute or two. He sat on the garage window sill moaning and baying to be released. Imagine how confusing for an animal that’s been wandering lost for SEVEN WEEKS to suddenly be trapped in an only somewhat maybe kind of familiar garage.
I called to Pete, but he didn’t seem to hear or notice or care for the first minute or two. Then, suddenly, he stopped moaning and made a beeline straight for me. I sat on the garage floor and reached my hand out to him. He took a quick sniff and then rubbed his cheek against my palm. Like he always had.
Jenna and Katelynn were awake now from the racket and they came into the garage to see if I was screaming because it really was Pete. Or if I was screaming because it really was a possum.
The three of us sat on the dusty garage floor together, laughing and crying, petting and scratching, and cooing at our once lost boy.
After a few minutes, we opened the door to go back into the house and Pete led the way inside. We woke Jake and Emma to tell them the news and Rob, who had been at work, took an unscheduled break to come home and witness Pete for his own eyes.
And there we were at 4:00 in the morning. Our family of six, sitting in a misshapen circle in the living room with Pete walking from one to the other of us to soak up all our petting and scratching and love.
And tears.
