Wanderer Extraordinaire

Guess who came home last night, after two very worrisome days?

Mummy went out last night to give the outdoor cats their midnight snack when who should come flying around the corner - making a distinctive beeline for the door - but TIPPY!

And do you think she even spoke to Mummy or me or anyone else as she sailed past the frame?

NO. Not a word.

Instead, after carousing for two days amongst deck cats and coyotes and lions and bird and other vicious creatures, Tippy calmly nibbled some crunchies and insisted that we NOT inspect her, moving and rearranging herself to avoid our inquisition while still enjoying her meal.

How rude!

 I mean to say, if you are going to disappear mysteriously for days then remain absent without explanation, what is the point of coming home? And if you aren’t going to reveal your secrets after coming home, it is only fair to let us cats do what we do best – Detect!

That’s right – we are all charter members of the Nosy Parker Detective Agency, and we know when something needs detecting. Tippy had been places and done things that only we cats could discover, using our great detecting skills to cultivate answers.

As previously mentioned, Tippy refused to let us do our job but we were equally insistent. We sniffed and touched noses and inspected up close, craning our necks and turning as necessary to get the full details despite her attempts at putting us off. We finally learned the full truth and felt sufficiently satiated to give her some space.

Of course, our professional work requires discretion so we are not at liberty to divulge where Tippy went or what she did on the nights in question – we can’t even tell Mummy (it would upset her, anyway, so it is probably for the best).

Mummy is so happy to see Tippy returned safely home that she doesn't seem too interested in her latent activities anyway. Suffice it to say that every time Mummy has opened the door today, Tippy has run the opposite direction.

And let that be a lesson to her, say I!

Tippy, AWOL!

It is my first week on the job as Man Of The House, and I have already lost a cat!

Two days ago, Mummy opened the door to take out the trash, and Tippy shot past her in a wild frenzy, looking neither to the right nor to the left. She disappeared ‘round the corner and refused to come when Mummy called. Mummy has spent the past two days searching beneath, around, behind and on top of everything in sight but no Tippy is nowhere to be found. If Dad knew about this he would be most upset – Tippy is Dad’s special girl. Mummy is beside herself with worry and has not slept a wink.

I have no idea where Tippy has gone – presumably to look for Dad. I certainly do not understand it all but wish Tippy would just believe Mummy when she says Dad is in Heaven. That is a long way away, and you simply can’t just walk there! What was she thinking? She did not even pack any fish or her toothbrush or skivvies or anything.

And I am responsible. If only I had paid better attention to Dad, maybe I would know how to handle the situation but rest assured that I will keep trying to figure out how to get Tippy back. Otherwise, I am going to be in a lot of trouble with Dad when I get to heaven.

Sheesh!

The Saddest News

My precious Dad passed away just four weeks ago. We kitties and Mummy have been so very sad, and though we hardly feel like doing anything (writing in my diary, for instance), Mummy says we mustn’t neglect our friends who have been so kind and thoughtful during this time of grief. To that end, I want to thank you all for the loveliest thoughts and prayers that have gone up for us. They have meant so much and, Mummy says, have helped us keep our sanity.

[I am certain she meant “us” in the singular. I am perfectly sane.]

Mummy also says that I am now Man Of The House.

I said, Who? Me?

She said, Yes. You.

But, I protested, no one listens to me!

Fat lot of good it did to tell her though. Mummy says since I am the oldest fellow, I must now look after everyone and keep them in line - without an instruction book. So I am trying to take on the role with dignity, authority and what-do-you-call-it and will be chronicling my charge, in case anyone is interested.

Did somebody snicker? I thought I heard something…

We have looked all over the house for Dad, wondering if he got locked in the upstairs bedroom or perhaps even outside again. Together, we kitties have scoured every nook and cranny in hopes of a discovery. Wouldn’t it be swell if I opened a kitchen cabinet and located Dad in the back corner, lost but none the worse for wear? Wouldn’t Mummy be so happy and proud of me?

Yesterday Mummy was cleaning in the bedroom and opened one of Dad’s armoire drawers. We kitties all gathered round immediately, peering in and sniffing deeply as the air suddenly reminded us of Dad. I was certain he was in that drawer somewhere (after all, Mummy did shut me in there once) so I began snatching and digging at his shirts. I mean to say, if she can get him in that little black box, she can definitely squeeze Dad into a drawer! But no matter how many shirts I upturned, Dad was nowhere to be found. I was disappointed. Mummy straightened everything then closed the drawer.

Still, I do not forget lightly and have every intention of checking back there again, very soon.

Our hermit habits have changed somewhat since Dad left us. Every time a man enters the house now, so far from running and hiding in various locales, we are all over the poor fellow just in case it is Dad [albeit wearing different clothes and after shave]. So far they have all been duds (instead if Dad) but we figure it can’t hurt to give them a toothy kiss and smell their shoes and even sit in their laps while we are already there. And it has been a rousing success in terms of getting unsolicited noggin scratchings and tummy rubs and back massages. If only we had discovered this sooner, we might have been able to enjoy the simple pleasures of company instead of fearing them. It is sad that Dad had to leave us before we would figure it out. We should have listened to him, says Mummy.

Speaking of Mummy, my first order of business in my new role as Head Of The House has been to make sure she stays on schedule with sink drinks and meals and litter box changes and noggin rubbings and the like. So far, she has done pretty well, though I have had to remind her a bit loudly (she loses focus a bit these days).

All in all, I would say she is coming right along. Only this morning she gave me a drink AND scratched my ears on the way to the shower without me having to grab her arm with my oversized paw.

She mumbled something about needing to trim a certain party’s claws.

Whose claws, I wonder?

I will be back as soon as possible with updates on my new career.
Thank you again for being such loving, thoughtful friends. Who could ask for anything more?

Except for our Dad to come back to us, I mean.