“Where’s Merry?” I casually asked while making dinner.
Merry is one of our cats, Pippin is the other. I’m bit protective of our cats even though they drive me crazy and they are dumbasses.
It’s just that we went through a bit of drama to get them. There was the whole issue with Merry’s biological brother dying 4 days after we got them and then going through the cat adoption process, unlike making a kid which involves some vodka and forgetting a condom, is a heck of a lot more complicated. I was so tortured in getting Merry’s adopted brother, New Pippin, that I’d rather have a root canal while listening to Ke$ha without auto-tune than go through it again.
Usually when I make dinner the cats are under foot. Like dogs, they are just hoping for one small piece of food to drop on the floor. Sometimes I yells, “YOU ARE NOT A DOG!” to see if that would make them stop. It doesn’t, they just look at me like I’m crazy.
On this night, however, only Pippin was weaving his way in and out of my feet like a snake slithering in the grass.
“Don’t know,” Jeff shrugged, not impressed with my worry over the lack of Merry’s presence.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen him… actually, I can’t remember the last time I saw him,” I said.
“I am sure he is around,” Jeff answered my concern and turned back to his computer.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Quinn will you go and look for Merry?”
If there was anyone that could find the cats it was Quinn. Unlike looking for a lost toy or book which involves only looking in their immediate location, he will actually go and look for the cats, like even under things and stuff.
It’s probably because his is kind of like a cat. He knows the cats. He’s one with the cats. It’s like Cesar Millan, dog whisper only it’s Quinn Mitchell, cat whisper.
“Mommy, I can’t find Merry,” Quinn said running back into the kitchen.
Well, this was not good. If Quinn couldn’t find the cats then something was up. We’d have to bring out the big guns. It was time for Mommy, ‘the finder of all lost things’, to bust out her skills.
I set down the spoon I was using to stir the pot and began to walking around the house looking in every place I thought the cat could be hiding in. I called out his name (why, I’m not sure because when you call a cat’s name they just look at you like “What? You want me to give a shit and come to you?) and shook the treat can. I opened closet doors, I moved toys and blankets, I looked high and low.
I couldn’t find him. Therefore, Merry was not in the house.
“Jeff, I’m really worried,” I said, returning to the kitchen, “What if he got outside while we were bringing the groceries?”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he said, not even looking up from his computer.
“Jeff. He’s just a kitten, he’s a baby.” I pressed, “He can’t be outside. It’s cold and snowy.”
“Mommy,” Quinn whimpered, very worried, “Merry got outside?!”
“Honey, I am sure he will be fine. Cats can go outside and come back home just fine,” I said trying to sooth him.
“But Mommy!” Quinn cried, “Merry will get dead outside!”
And with a flair for the dramatic just like his mother, Quinn burst into sobbing tears.
“Jeff!” I hissed.
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Jeff said as he stood up from the table.
I hugged Quinn to me and tried to comfort him as Jeff began to look around the house. I didn’t know what good it was going to do because I had already been over the house with my super ‘mommy will find it’ power but I let him go and didn’t say anything.
I just secretly made plans in my head how we would get another cat. I’d find someway to get one… even go through the whole horrible, awful cat adoption process again.
“Jen.” Jeff called from upstairs.
“What?” I called back
“Um… come here,” Jeff answered.
I sighed and took the steps two at a time.
“What?” I repeated when I met him at the top.
“Look,” he said and pointed into Claire’s room.
I did a quick glance around her room but found nothing out of the ordinary.
“What am looking at?” I asked now a little annoyed that we were playing this game. I had dinner to make and he was supposed to be looking for Merry.
Jeff pushed past me and walked over Claire’s dresser, “I found Merry. Listen.”
Then in the stillness of the room, I heard a small ‘meow’. Jeff bent over and pulled out the bottom drawer. Up popped Merry’s little head. He jumped out of the drawer, stretched and then walked out of the room.
“Oh,” I said.
“I thought you said you looked up in here,” Jeff replied.
“I did,” I said, defending myself, “I looked in the closest, the cupboards and under the bed. I didn’t think to look in an almost closed drawer.”
“Well, I did,” he said with a smirk. “So…”
“So?!” I repeated and then added, “…Thank you.”
I kissed him on the cheek and turned to leave.
“Oh no,” he said, “I found the cat which you couldn’t find and kept Quinn from loosing his shit because the cat was possibly gone. You owe me.”
“Fine, just put it your tab,” I said. “You can collect when the kids are in bed.”