The last time I wrote about Bartlett, I briefly mentioned his fondness for box springs; and said I’d elaborate at another time. Well, that time has come.
He was out of the guest room, roaming free in the house. I honestly can’t remember how long I’d had him at this point — I’d say probably no less than six months and no more than a year. I was going away on a business trip and had my suitcase on the bed, so I could pack. I know cats don’t like it when we pack. I have a friend in Montreal whose Persian would pee in her luggage each and every time she was taking a trip.
So I wasn’t in the least surprised when all three of my cats (Zazu, Sundance and Bartlett) were full of nervous energy — jumping on the bed, off the bed, up and down like bouncing balls. Climbing into the suitcase and refusing to get out again. Burrowing under whatever clothing I was putting in. I’d get rid of one cat and the other would take over. When I opened drawers to get stuff out, a cat would jump in, making a holy mess. Frustrated, I decided to let them have their fun and get it out of their systems, while I had some dinner.
Only an idiot trys to outsmart a cat. Remember this.
Dinner over, I went to put the garbage out — I’d forgotten the next day was pick-up. Then I hauled my sorry ass back upstairs to my bedroom, to finish packing. Zazu was fast asleep in my suitcase. Sundance was curled up on a pile of clothes, that were laying on my bed, waiting to be packed. Bartlett was nowhere to be found. Thinking nothing of it at first, I got on with the task at hand.
By the time I got to my toiletries, he’d been MIA for a while. Too quiet. Too long.
I looked in every drawer in my bedroom. I looked under the bed — not just looked, by the way. I got down on the floor, on my stomach, and literally slid under the Continue reading