Abducting a Cat

After dinner tonight, Hannah convinced me to go to the park "just for a little bit". I agreed, although at first I said no because a) I had yet to clean up dinner; b) it was bath night and getting late; c) Jacob was not wearing any pants.

Hannah replied that I could clean up after the park, then we could still have baths, and she would personally run upstairs and get Jacob a new pair of pants. Hard to refuse logic like that. So off we went.

While at the park (a good plan of Hannah's, I might add - the weather was perfect and both kids were having so much fun), a cat ran past us through the grass. "Look, a cat!" I exclaimed (because although we have 3 of our own, cats outside are very interesting to my kids). Then I looked again. "Is that Stryder?"

Stryder is one of our very-much-indoor cats who loves to escape every time the door opens. Usually he makes it to the edge of the porch or sometimes onto the grass right beside the deck before he is scooped up and tossed gently (always gently) back into the house. The park is very far from our house, for a cat who has never been more than 10 feet away from the nearest door.

I went over for a closer look. He meowed like he knew me. I picked him up. Yup, right size and weight. Same facial expressions. Exact colouring. He must have escaped and followed us here! Holy crap. I had to get him home!

I scooped up the cat, encouraged my children to hurry back onto bikes and into strollers so we could bring our wayward feline home. Filled with a sense of urgency that matched my own, they eagerly abandoned the park and prepared to leave. The cat, however, didn't want to leave. He began to resist me. I had noticed his sharp claws so was reluctant to allow him to struggle too much. Carrying a cat in one hand, while pushing an umbroller with the other, doesn't really work. Especially when the cat really wants down.

I urged Hannah on, "Don't stop! Keep moving. I'm going to drop Stryder." And I did. Several times. I also almost lost Jacob every time I had to let go of the stroller to regain my grip on the cat. He veered off onto the grass, onto driveways, and once right toward the road. This wasn't working. At all. One of my neighbours was getting his mail so I tried to solicit his help. He politely declined and looked at me funny. Then took the long way home. Eventually I had to put the cat down. I decided to check the house first to ensure Stryder was indeed missing and then go back for him if need be.

Upon entering the house, Hannah immediately started counting the cats. "Here's Pekoe. That's one. There's Vader. That's two. Oh no, where's Stryder?"

It really was Stryder. And I left him under someone's van 20 houses away. Before going back out, I decided to feed the cats in case Stryder was simply hiding. I dumped the food in. Pekoe came sauntering down. Then Vader. And, miracle of all miracles, then Stryder.

I hope no one (other than my neighbour who now thinks I'm insane) saw me carrying that cat. I hope its real owners weren't watching. The really sad part is: I think I knew it wasn't Stryder. This cat had too much brown in its fur and its claws were really long when I had just cut Stryder's. Yet, still, I felt compelled to make a spectacle of myself just in case.