Worried About Winston
Although I haven’t done any actual catblogging until now, I’ve mentioned my cat Winston the Magnificent Wuss on more than one occasion. He’s my baby, having been with me since Valentine’s 2004. He’s not much to look at: an orange and white tabby with bright yellow eyes.
He’s an amazing predator, though: he’s brought me moles, mice, even a live bird once, and deposits them at my feet or (much to my chagrin) on my pillow. He’s a lover, too. Since the first day we were together, Winston has jumped onto my bed to curl into my side until I’m asleep, when he disappears presumably on mouse patrol until the next morning. Then he wakes me with a chirrup, one reserved specially to address me, and winds his way through my ankles as he follows me to his food and water in the kitchen.
Sometimes, when I walk through the living room, he pounces at me from behind the sofa or, lately, beneath the Christmas tree. He wraps his paws around my ankles, gives a gentle nip, then turns his tummy to demand my immediate attention. I always give it, too. I love him so much, I can’t help setting down whatever’s in my hand just so I can rub his “tummy, tum, tum.”
Thursday night was the first time Winston was not there to cuddle me as I slept. I tried not to worry about it — I’d seen him go out his cat door earlier that morning, and since I’d turned in particularly early, I figured he didn’t know to meet me in bed. But he wasn’t there to wake me on Friday, and so I slept late. He wasn’t there Friday night, either, and not one bite of food has disappeared from his food bowl since.
Winston is missing, and my heart is broken. Considering the very cold nights we’ve had lately, I can only hope he’s wandered into someone else’s home where he’s enjoying a nice, cozy vacation until he returns to me some day soon. But I miss him, and so does his chief tormentor/rival: the Big-Eyed Boy. Just this morning my son asked when Winston was coming home, and I couldn’t answer him.
“Maybe he’s spending Christmas in heaven with Jesus,” he said.
And, although I’d like to think that would make Winston happy, I’m afraid my son’s right.
omg that’s so sad
I am seriously torn up about him. Ironically, my best friend just told me she needs to find a new home for her cat, so she wants to give him to me. But I miss Winston. I want him back. And, if the other cat’s here when he comes home, well then, Winston has a pet of his own.
Oh no, Kate, I’m so sorry.
My first thought is, don’t give up hope. A month after our Hemingway disappeared and we’d rescued a dog, I was walking the dog and we found the cat about a mile away from home with a (yeesh) pink flea collar on her. I won’t go off about how no one had bothered to check her chip or that her ID collar had disappeared and I found her behind a row of Chief’s (E9’s) houses.
I also had a cat once that disappeared for over two weeks and then just came back home one day as if he’d never been gone.
And then there was Pixel. Almost a year after he’d disappeared we were taking a walk and there was Pixel, sitting in another house’s window, all fat and happy. Cats sometimes move…we don’t know why.
Cats are odd creatures…it’ll turn up at some point. In the old housing estate we lived in in GZ…there are still cats there that people had 5 years ago…they just wander around and show up on doorsteps. People feed them and they remain somewhat fed and happy (albeit, dirty)
That sucks big time, Kate.
I hope Winston comes home to you soon.
Hope Winston comes home soon.