As we were walking out of the house to go run, I commented that I hadn't seen Pica the cat for quite awhile. After a 15-minute frenzy searching our 950-square-foot apartment, we realized she had most likely succeeded in her attempt to run into the hallway while we were doing laundry.
We ran up and down all seven floors on both sides of the renovated historic hotel we live in. We searched behind the washers and dryers, under the lobby couches, behind the bookshelves. She was no where.
Meanwhile I am imagining the cat fights, the busy streets, the fiesty dogs, and the crazy people. Shea and Mac just stared - sympathetic and helpless.
At 8 p.m., she'd been gone for at least 10 hours, and it was getting dark. My already panicked state was increasing and the tears were flowing freely. I called my mom who made more sign suggestions. As we were going down to tape them up, I saw a tuft of white fur on the stairs to the second floor. And then Shea announced, "there she is!" Her little round eyes, peering through a crack from behind a propped open fire door.
I carried poor Pica to the apartment, and Shea fed her gourmet canned cat food. We had been out of dry food and weren't sure what to do at the grocery store. Saved AND fed well. Plus, I made Shea name the things he liked about her now that she was back safe. "Well...she's soft."
When I called my mom to tell her the good news, her response was: "Well I am not surprised. Grandma, Aunt Nan and I just all started praying a few minutes ago." The women in my family rise to the occasion with the power of prayer. He loves them, all the creatures great and small.