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Very personal. Lost pet.

Friday, 27 February, 2009

My feline companion of nine years, called Jane, is missing. I did not name her.

She is an indoor cat. With the exception of the patio on my apartment, she is averse to being outdoors at all. Jane is as much of a neurotic mess as I am. She is averse to other people like I am, probably because of the many years we have spent alone.

Jane is not especially fond of being photographed.

Jane is not especially fond of being photographed.

Jane is Prussian-Blue Gray with a white belly extending to her lower jaw and white socks. Her legs are too short and her tail is too long. In her dotage she has become a bit fat. She has Rex-like dexterity in her front paws and tends to vocalize, at least with me. My rare visitors have expressed surprise at actually hearing her but I am accustomed to this.

As we live on the second floor of a 1968, California-style apartment complex it is not clear how she became lost or removed somehow from our home. I last saw her ca. 6:00 AM Thursday morning when she left my bed to do whatever she does on the patio in the early morning. This moment was so mundane, I rolled over to go to sleep at my usual time. Evidently, she likes to hear sounds of the city as it wakes up, or maybe the dogs in adjacent yards who are especially active in the early hours.

Stan wears a silly hat while holding Jane in his Kinney Ave. apartment before renovation 2003

Stan wears a silly hat while holding Jane in his Kinney Ave. apartment before renovation 2002

Now she is very simply gone. I do not know what to do. Neither practical things which may somehow secure her return, nor how to cope with my growing despair. The Universe has been preparing me to lose her, but I did not imagine it would be like this.

She is not tagged. She is not chipped. I have done nothing.

If she winds up at the local shelter I do not have the hyperdocumentation required to secure her return. Because it is a “no kill” shelter, she will meet her demise like so many other native Texans in short order with or without my intervention.

and I may never even know how she got away in the first place.

I am open to quite literally any suggestions.

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2 Comments
  1. Jennifer Dillon permalink
    Thursday, 12 March, 2009 23:07

    I’m so sorry about this it makes me very ill. If my crying would bring her back, she’d be back. I hate this so very much, Stan.

    Shit.

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    • Thursday, 12 March, 2009 23:29

      Thank you. I am still putting out her food and last month’s sheets every night. I prowl the neighborhood in the wee hours every couple of days, but there aren’t even other cats around. Thursday was the first day I did not go to Town Lake, but I will be there Friday. Although I now know I don’t actually feel things like this, I somehow know she is gone. And I can’t give up just yet.

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