The cat in the trap

OXY is still missing. It's been two months.

We borrowed traps from MEOW Cat Rescue the first day she was gone and started setting and baiting them immediately, putting in catnip and the smelliest food we could find. We set and checked traps around the neighborhood for weeks. We reported Roxy as missing to the microchip company. We put up huge pink LOST - PLEASE HELP posters all through the neighborhood so that no one could miss them. We put up "Lost Cat" alerts on social media sites and in specialty groups on Facebook (Lost Cats of King County, etc.) We bought an infrared camera to try to catch sight of her next to a trap. We tried to hire several pet detectives to come out and help us search (none of them would come to our part of Washington). We hired a man with a cat-sniffing dog ($300) who could not find her. (If you have a lost cat, we strenuously do not recommend this service -- he will probably end up chasing your cat further away, which is what happened to Roxy.) We performed two house-to-house searches, one in our neighborhood and one around my friend Wendy's house where Roxy was spotted. We put out traps and food near Wendy's house (Roxy didn't touch them). We borrowed a drop trap and stayed up two nights running with it trying to catch Roxy (she didn't come near it). We printed more than 1800 flyers asking people to help us find Roxy and hand-delivered them to every single house in the neighborhood. (If people had "No Soliciting" signs up, we took note of their addresses and mailed the flyers to them, so nobody was missed.) We went through the neighborhood at night looking for her, sometimes silently, sometimes calling softly. We bought an e-book from a pet detective in Texas to try to figure out things we weren't already doing. We changed our voice mail message to mention we are looking for Roxy and checked the phone multiple times a day for leads. We followed up on every lead every time someone called to say "I think I saw your cat." We asked people to check their security cameras for signs of Roxy. We offered $50 to anyone who could provide a verifiable picture of Roxy within the last 24 hours. (So far, no one has.) We created a Pawboost alert for social media that went out all over the greater Seattle area. We put up "lost cat" ads on Craigslist. We checked and continue to check the shelter websites every night and morning to see if Roxy has been brought in. We gave flyers to local vets, pet stores and MEOW Cat Rescue. We let all the local shelters know we were looking for Roxy. We left water and a little cardboard "kitty house" next to the door in case she found her way home. We left the door open all day and night in case she found her way home. We prayed, had many others praying for us, we fasted for Roxy, and I put a cat's name on the temple prayer roll. (I'm not sure if it's allowed, but I did it anyway.)

All in all, we have spent nearly $2,000 so far to try to get Roxy home. We've also lost many hours of sleep and I dropped about 10 pounds from constant worry. And nothing has come of it. Roxy remains missing, and we are trying to come to terms with the fact that we may never see her again.

Yes, it hurts. Every day. And yes, I'm bitter about it. If you went to this much trouble to find a lost pet and had absolutely no success, I guarantee you would be too.

While the traps didn't work as we'd hoped, they did yield some surprises. We caught two different opossums in various locations. We also started leaving a trap baited in our front yard in the vain hope of catching Roxy if she found her way home again. And while we didn't catch Roxy, on the morning of July 11 we found something interesting in the trap.

It was a young cat (the vet estimates 10 to 11 months old), a brown tabby with a white ruff and socks and green eyes. The cat was relatively small and underfed, but had the long legs and big paws of a lerpy teenager. He had no tags or collar, no microchip (we checked at two vets with three different chip readers), had never been neutered and probably never had his shots. He was also ravenously hungry and would eat almost anything, he had fleas and showed other signs of having lived on the street for months. But the most impressive thing we noticed about him was the level of fight in him. Somehow, after having followed the siren call of sardines into the trap, he managed to pull the entire heavy oilcloth trap cover into the trap with him -- probably while trying to escape. He then vented his frustrations on the cover, which was pretty mangled by the time we found him. (We're going to pay for a replacement... sorry, MEOW.)

He appeared to be a little street cat, but he wasn't feral -- he didn't hiss when humans approached his cage...

... he liked being close to us, and he loved being petted and brushed, so we knew that at some point in his past he'd been around people. Our best guess is that this cat was part of an unplanned litter of kittens from someone's unspayed pet. He was obviously played with and socialized, but when he grew past the "cute kitten" stage he was probably taken to a neighborhood far from home and dumped out to fend for himself.

I'm just gonna leave this here

All the signs pointed to this being an unwanted cat. Nobody had given him an indoor home, no one had chipped or even collared him, nobody seemed to be looking for him. I guess we could have decided it wasn't our problem, opened the trap and let him run away. But that's not what we did. We know firsthand what anguish it is to lose a pet. Besides, we've seen coyotes in our neighborhood. We weren't about to let this kitty run headlong into predators, no matter how much fight he had in him.

"Hi! You got treats?"

Also, he was really cute and a huge flirt.

Now, our county has laws about what to do if you find a stray cat. You can't just say "o well, finders keepers" and merrily yoink him off the street. The law stipulates two options: either you take him to the county shelter, where they try to find his owners for THREE WHOLE DAYS and then put him up for adoption, or you can keep him in your own home at your expense for A FULL MONTH, advertising him as a found cat on local bulletin boards and on the shelter website so that his owner -- if there is one -- has every chance to come forward and claim him. Once the month has passed, you're then free to pay the licensing fee and keep the animal if you want. Because we're kinda dumb (and because he was really cute), we chose to do it the hard way and foster the cat in our home. (And if you're reading this, it means a full month has passed with no contact from an owner.)

So was this a cheap way to get a cat? Well, not the way we did it. This kitty has already been to the vet five times -- to scan multiple times for a microchip, to find out why he was coughing, to check up on an enlarged heart (his heart is unusually big, but it works just fine)...

Alas, the Cone of Shame.

... to get him neutered, microchipped, screened for FeLV and FIV (negative on both), given all his basic shots and treated for fleas. You know, all the stuff owners are supposed to do for their pets.

And since he's going to be an indoor cat, we also put a bright orange collar on him and a tag that says "I'M LOST!" If you'd like to know why, read this.

This cat has been through several name changes. Because we trapped him on July 11, which in the USA is 7/11 (aka Free Slurpee Day at the 7-Eleven convenience store chain), we first called him Slurpee, but we soon decided that was an insufficiently dignified name for a masculine cat. Then, as the call of the wild began to tug at him and he came up with novel, loud and annoying ways to attempt egress from the house at 2 a.m. ...

"Some day, window. Some day."

... we toyed with the idea of calling him Hairy Mewdini, Escape Artist. But one day I just realized he looked like a Charlie cat. So we started calling him Charlie, and it's stuck.

It's still possible that Roxy will come back. If she does, we'll need to find a good home for Charlie. While we think Charlie is social enough to tolerate another cat, Roxy is far too timid to handle other animals in the house. But if she remains missing, we intend to keep this guy. He's stopped trying to escape (well, mostly), he's well-fed, well-groomed and flea-free, he gets to play with toys, randomly attack the sofa, and chase Tigger (a catnip-filled knitted tiger toy)...

... he sleeps anywhere he wants, and he has people who give him lots of love and attention and who think his occasional naughtiness is more endearing than it is annoying.

Local street cat makes good. Film at 11.

Roxy is missing again

LOST CAT - ROXY

Domestic shorthair mix, 5 year old spayed female, weighs about 10 pounds, black and light reddish-brown tortoiseshell with "split-face" markings, yellow-green eyes
Microchip number: 0A13737525
Date missing: 9 June 2019, 10:30 p.m., in the 6200 block of 156th Avenue NE, Redmond, WA (near the Meadows subdivision)
Last spotted: 25 June 2019, around 1 a.m., in the lower section of NE 59th Way, Meadows subdivision

Roxy is an indoor-only cat. She has been lost once before and was gone for the better part of a week before we were able to trap her. She was wearing her collar and tags and is microchipped. She is very timid and will probably not come when she is called. We hope she is hiding somewhere close by in the neighborhood, possibly under a deck or tarp, next to a house foundation, or in a shed or garage.

IMPORTANT NOTE: If you live in or near the Meadows subdivision and you have a motion detection security camera, you may have footage of Roxy. Please check your logs for the past week, and if you see her, contact us immediately.

We borrowed a humane trap from a local cat rescue organization on Monday and have set and baited it every day since. Although there is some indication that some animal is eating food near the trap, we have seen no sign of Roxy.

Please help us find our kitty! We are heartsick at losing her.

If you have found or seen Roxy, send an email and reference her microchip number.

And if you pray, please pray for us, and for Roxy to be found quickly. Thank you.

UPDATE: June 28

We have seen Roxy in the Meadows area, but have not been able to trap her or lure her with food. Not only is she naturally timid and prone to hiding, but there are predators in our neighborhood, so she's a smart kitty. While that timidity probably keeps her alive, it also makes it really hard to get her back.

It's been three weeks since Roxy disappeared, and the experience has been physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting. CM and I haven't been sleeping well and we can't focus on anything else. We just want her home.

UPDATE: July 14

It's been nearly three weeks since the last time we saw Roxy in the neighborhood and a total of five weeks since she was last home. We've distributed fliers through the entire neighborhood, letting them know our neighbors should call us at any time of the day or night if they see her. We've asked people to look for her on their security cameras. We've been keeping all the websites of the local shelters hot, checking and rechecking to see if she's been brought in. We've offered $50 to anyone who can provide a verifiable photo of Roxy taken within the last 24 hours. But there's been nothing. It's as though she just evaporated.

If anyone knows what happened to Roxy, please let us know. Even if you have awful news for us. We want to know what's become of our sweet, shy kitty.

Kitty dreamtime

Sometimes our cat, Roxy, dreams. We see her trying to run in her sleep, or she'll twitch and make little noises, and occasionally she'll wake up in full fight, flight or freeze mode and bite whoever's closest to her. After she went missing outside for nearly a week, Roxy showed signs of having nightmares for many days afterward. I've often watched her moving in her sleep and wondered how cats, dogs and other domestic animals experience dreamtime.

Certainly we have experiences in dreams which don't make logical sense in reality, but which seem perfectly reasonable while we're having them. If the dreams are vivid and realistic enough, we may awaken from them unable to shake the feelings we experienced, and we sometimes spend minutes to hours afterward convincing ourselves it was only a dream, it wasn't real.

If fully sapient beings such as humans, with logical, rationalizing brains, have a tough time telling the difference between dreams and reality, what must the dream experience be like for our pets? Do they think of their dreams as being of a piece with reality, as "that one time I floated through the kitchen and attacked a giant piece of kibble?" Or do they remember dreams at all after they have them? We're not really certain how animal memories of real events work, whether they fully remember past experiences the same way we do; we certainly have little inkling of how they experience dreams or whether they remember them afterward. It's an aspect of our domestic animals' lives that is largely opaque to us, even though they've lived and worked alongside us for centuries -- a reminder that, as much as we think we've discovered about the world around us, there are still plenty of mysteries to explore within our own households.

Roxy hanging out in one of her favorite places, Fort Paper

In any case, I hope at least some of Roxy's dreams are happy. She's a good beastie, even when she bites.

The joys of leprosy

Well, I'm sick again. Snerty nose, coughing, sneezing, and my hearing has gone from stereo to mono (every time I blow my nose, an ear clogs up). I've been dosing myself up in various ways -- drinking quarts of water, avoiding dairy, sipping hot peppermint tea and beef broth (separately, not together), and I smeared a clove of raw garlic on some bread and ate it, so now my sinuses are shot AND my breath can peel paint off the wall! Impressive, no? (No.) About the only thing that offers temporary relief -- and the ability to breathe again -- is a hot shower, so I've had several more than I needed today, strictly speaking.

Roxy-cat has not been very understanding through all of this. Many times, as I've padded over to the pantry to make myself another cup of tea, she has jumped onto the table and batted at me as if to say, "Hey! Hey, feed me! Chips for me? Treats? I want to play with string! Now! Now? How 'bout now? You are no fun today!" Yep. That's how it works, cat.

As with most cases of the ick, the only two things that work are a) treat symptoms and b) wait it out. I'm trying to be patient, but it's difficult. I'm not good at being sick under the best of circumstances and I have a Big Fun Thing coming up next week, so I want all this to be over yesterday.

In closing, I'm not sure who gave this to me, but CAN YOU TAKE IT BACK NOW PLEASE KTHXBAI.

Mom-cat and kitty-cat

Mom was moved out of the ICU and into the cardiac care unit today. We weren't sure she would be -- her blood pressure has been dangerously low all the time she's been in the hospital and her nurses wanted that stabilized before anyone moved her -- but this afternoon she got transferred to a different bed and wheeled off to the East Tower of the hospital. She ordered and ate dinner, got to use the spirometer a lot more than she probably appreciated, and also got all drugged up on pain pills. Wheee.

Occasionally Mom says some funny things under the influence of pain medication. She told Julie the other day that a colt and a filly were prancing around her room. She also saw a VW Beetle in the room, and was worried about it getting a flat because someone had stuck a board with nails in it right next to one of the tires. Just after saying these things, she stopped and said, "Wait. I'm having a dream, aren't I?" Yes, Mom, yes you are.

Mom has been fortunate to have some great nurses and other medical professionals in charge of her. We're also glad they haven't taken our goofy comments too seriously. (Almost every time I run errands and ask, "Anybody want anything?" Julie's go-to response is "A big bag of cocaine.")

By the way, this hospital is undergoing major renovation and the trails to different sections of the facility currently resemble nothing more than a rabbit warren. The twists and turns are enough to give anyone vertigo. I feel like I need to lay down a trail of breadcrumbs if I want to find Mom's room again.

At home, I hear from CM that the Roxy-cat is sick. She won't eat, she's been barfing and she spent most of yesterday hiding -- all classic signs of a small predator with an illness. The vet noticed she had an elevated white blood count, dehydration, no signs of having swallowed a foreign object, and no fever. So for now kitty is getting antibiotics, anti-nausea drugs and a whole lot of subcutaneous water to help fix her dehydration. If you're already praying for my mom and my in-laws, I'm sure you probably don't want to add my cat to the list, but if you feel inclined we'd certainly appreciate the blessing.

ETA (9/21 1:55 a.m.): Well, that didn't last long. Mom's blood pressure went low again and they transferred her back to the ICU. I'm confident that if anyone can get her BP stable, they can.

Look, I made another video!

Actually, Captain Midnight made the video. I just sat out in front and rambled about Stuff and Things. Also, you may note I'm still not wearing any makeup or doing anything special with my hair, not so much because I'm about Keepin' it Real(TM), but because I hope you can see I'm starting to heal up and therefore in less pain.

"Don't you wish you had my awesome Never Forget T-shirt?
Well forget it, sucka, this one's mine!"

Because my surgeon won't let me pick up more than 5 pounds for some 6 weeks after surgery, I won't be able to move Miss V into her college apartment this year. This means she's getting on a plane to head back to school. Fortunately, most of her stuff went into a storage locker near the university at the end of last school year, and she has about a week or thereabouts to move it into her new apartment. With a little help from family and friends, she should be able to get it all taken care of before school starts.

CM is once again playing Minecraft today. And Roxy has decided the most comfortable place to take a nap is draped across his desk, with her head resting on CM's mouse arm. Every now and then she decides he needs a bath. It's endearing to see her showing him so much love, especially since she's such a skittish kitty.

Captain Midnight hangs with the kitteh

Last week while I was gone, the handsome and lonesome Captain Midnight had to figure out what to do with himself. He proceeded to drown his sorrows in scads of Minecraft and Mountain Dew.

Someone had to put a stop to this. And that someone was Roxy.

Here she is on his desk, blocking access to the digital drug and saying, "No! No mouse for you! Pet me!"

She's a good kitty.

May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you're dead.

In the United States, there are a few regulation ways to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. But since we're not drinkers, we settled for delicious food.

Most years, we make corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and carrots in the slow cooker, and dose all with lashings of horseradish sauce.

This year, though, we mixed things up a bit and made colcannon instead. That's the lovely green stuff at upper left -- a savory blend of mashed potatoes, leeks, kale, green onions and LOTS of butter. (And don't tell, because it's not traditional, but I might have slipped a clove or two of garlic into the greens. sssh.)

Corned beef, colcannon and carrots. This plate was brought to you by the letter C.

Captain Midnight (also brought to you by the letter C) added some soft boiled garlic cloves and horseradish sauce to his plate, because reasons.

And he pronounced it NOM.

Alas, Roxy-cat will not get any corned beef leftovers. Because we NEVER have corned beef leftovers in this house.

New Blessing Journal entry

Something new went into the Blessing Journal a few days ago. Here's what I wrote:

You have a home.

It isn't something you think about often. You tend to take it for granted. But serving dinner at the emergency women's shelter was a wake-up call to remind you of what a blessing it is to have a permanent home. Your things are secure, not subject to the elements, highly unlikely to be lost or stolen. You can depend on getting a hot shower, three good meals and a warm bed every day. You can sleep and wake on your own timetable. You can wash your clothing whenever you need to do so. You have private transportation you can take nearly anywhere. Your money is safe. You have privacy. You are protected and cherished, not yelled at and beaten, by your wonderful husband. And the spirit of God can reside in your home, improving every aspect of your life, helping you with spiritual and mental stability and growth. Having a home to come back to has also blessed Miss V, Captain Midnight, even Roxy. It's a calm, comfortable, warm and lagom sort of place where love is expressed often and in many forms. What a blessing it is to have a home!

Sinterklaasfeest

It's that time of year again! So, did Sinterklaas bring you something?

Captain Midnight must have been good, because Sinterklaas brought him a whole little box of lebkuchen. Lucky Captain Midnight.

Roxy-cat did not get anything from Sinterklaas because she tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to eat the afghan I've been making. Naughty Roxy-cat.

And Sinterklaas knows I am trying to keep my blood sugar down, so he didn't bring me anything either. Sad Soozcat.

At least none of us got a sack of salt and a broomstick this year. Nor did we get a free trip to Spain courtesy of Zwarte Piet. I guess we can count ourselves lucky!

Don't nobody mess with the Sinterklaas.

Roxy's favorite person

When we first got Roxy, she was definitely Miss V's cat. Then when V went away to college, I thought she might gravitate to me. It wasn't an unreasonable expectation; I've hung around a lot of cats in my day and they tend to like me.

But ever since this happened, Roxy has decided who her favorite person in the household is.

And whenever he comes home late from work, she sits in the genkan and does this:

Captain Midnight has stoically accepted his fate as the Cat Whisperer of this household. In fact, as I type this he is playing Minecraft while Roxy is curled up in the space under his monitor stand, the better to gaze adoringly at him.

Conversations with a small tiger

One of the things about being a Soozcat is I have to get to have conversations like this:

Roxy: Oh hey, are those nachos? Are they for me?!
Me: Think about it, Roxy. This is a human-sized portion. I didn't put it on the floor.
Roxy (stretching up to bat at the plate with her front paws): For me! Chips for me!
Me: Plus, how many times have I reminded you that you're an obligate carnivore?
Roxy: Chips for meeee!
Me: Forget it! You cannot count that high! What is it with you and corn chips, anyway?
Roxy: Chips chips chips for me I NEED CHIPS IN MY LIIIIIIFE
Me: Tch. Fine, you furry little mendicant. Have a chip fragment. (tosses it to her)
Roxy: YAY CHIPS! (sniffs chip thoroughly) Nah, this one smells like feet.

Yeah, people think it would be fun to talk to animals. To that I reply, "Read 'Tobermory' by Saki before you wish keenly for that ability."

TIMBER!

I don't think I ever put this up. Back in February of this year, after we'd had some spectacularly hard rains, several of the big trees in our side yard got wobbly and our landlord decided they had to come down. He was very nervous about doing this, so he had us leave the house before he started knocking them over with earth-moving equipment.

So of course, we had to get footage. Because reasons.

(You can fullscreen this video for complete tree-felling awesomeness.)
Bravo landlord!

By the way, we did try to evacuate Roxy-cat, but she could tell by our voices that we weren't calling her to do anything fun, so despite our best efforts her furry little butt stayed hidden under the bookshelf during this whole adventure. I just hope we never have a fire in here.

Riding a wave of ick

ARLY this morning I awakened to the enchanting sensation of extreme nausea. Ten minutes and lots of barfing later, I showered and promptly crawled back into bed. Since then I've been shaking and trying to take small sips of water, trying to keep liquid down. Not sure where I picked this bug up, but I'd be more than happy to drop it somewhere else.

Roxy-cat has decided she can best help by hopping up on the bed and sleeping next to me. (We have observed that, despite her timidity, Roxy is very curious about "her people" and wants to be wherever they are. No matter where CM and I go in the house, five seconds later she's there looking at us like "whatcha doin'?") She's a good kitty.

For the nonce, the queasiness has settled down, but I'm still shaky and dizzy. My head is killing me, but I'm afraid to take aspirin for fear it will come back up. Something tells me I'm not going to be terribly useful today.

On anthropomorphizing animals

(Still sick. Still making stuff. But there's something about being physically out of sorts that inspires the need for a good rant, so here you go!)

We are fortunate to live near an excellent veterinary hospital, where we take Roxy-cat for occasional checkups. (Roxy doesn't consider herself fortunate in this regard, but hey, you can't have everything.) After several vet visits, though, I've realized I need to find a particular article of clothing to wear on future trips. It doesn't need to be particularly fancy -- just a well-fitting T-shirt in a complimentary color with the following words clearly blazoned across the front:

Several well-meaning vets and assistants, when Roxy has hidden behind me in an effort to avoid the exam table, have cooed at her, "Aww, do you feel safer with your mommy?" and each time I quietly grit my teeth. No, people. No. The people at the cat rescue place where we got Roxy kindly provided us with a small photo album containing pictures of her kittenhood, so if pressed I can point out the lovely orange tabby in the photos who actually IS her mom.

Maybe the moniker "Soozcat" is confusing, but I'm not Roxy's mom. I'm her owner.

Look, I know a lot of people -- including some dear friends and family members who read this blog -- who enthusiastically refer to the creatures living in their homes as their "furbabies" and call themselves "pet parents" and so forth. Everyone, from veterinarians to pet stores to animal shelters, seems keen to support and even encourage this sort of infantile talk. But, craving your pardon for stating the truth, "pet adoption" is a polite social falsehood, a veneer over the truth that you purchased and licensed an animal to keep in your home. No matter how much you love and pamper him, little Phydeaux is not your furry child. He will never learn to spell his own name, let alone graduate from Harvard or care for you in your old age. Unless you're in your eighties or older, you will more than likely outlive him. And you didn't adopt him. He's a dog, and in the eyes of the law, you own him.

"But that sounds like slavery!" I hear some of you cry. Well, it certainly would be if we were talking about owning human beings. BUT WE'RE NOT, because animals are by definition not human beings. This is why I take occasion to the use of saccharine phrases like "furry children" and "furbabies" and similar poppycock. I think most people use them in jest, but just enough people use them on the wrong side of earnest to make this nonsense potentially dangerous.

What happens when we forget that animals are animals, with their own thoughts and typical behaviors, their own ways of living and perceiving the world, and instead give in to the temptation to treat them like human infants? Bad things happen. Sometimes very bad things happen -- things that could have been avoided if people had respected the fact that animals are different from people.

The responsibility of taking a pet into your home involves far more than just filling the water dish and cleaning the litterbox. It also means you don't feed a vegan diet to an obligate carnivore. It means you make sure your pet gets proper stimulation and healthy levels of exercise. It means you don't overfeed your pet or give him too many unhealthy treats. It means you spend the time and money for regular vet visits. It means you teach behavior modification and learn to clip claws every few weeks, instead of cruelly declawing a cat who scrapes at the furniture. It means you do the responsible thing and have your pet surgically altered, so that pet won't have (or sire) lots and lots of young that end up strays, feral, or dead. It means you take the time to learn the behaviors of different species -- that when a cat rolls over and shows you her belly, for instance, it doesn't mean the same thing as when a dog does it. It means you don't become an animal hoarder. And sometimes it means you don't make heroic efforts to keep your pet alive if he or she is in pain and cannot be healed. That's hard. (Believe me, as someone who's had to put a cat to sleep in the past, I know just how heartbreaking this is.) But that's part of your responsibility as a pet owner -- knowing what your particular species of pet needs to be healthy and happy, finding out what your specific animal needs from you, and providing those needs. That is the truest sign of love for an animal you can possibly manifest. And if you don't think you have the time or desire to provide these things, maybe you should look into getting a pet rock.

If you really want to refer to your dog as a "furbaby" or your cats as "little people in fur coats," it's your call. But you won't hear it coming out of my mouth. Experience has led me to believe that treating a pet like a person can be unkind and potentially dangerous, both for the pet and the person. So don't do it, OK?

I do not understand cats.

Us: Come on, Roxy, try this cat tunnel we bought. It will be fun!
Cat tunnel: *rustle rustle*
Roxy: nopenopenopeNOPEnopenopitynope

*6 months pass*

Me: Man, look at this thing. It's been gathering dust in the garage. I should probably just give it away... well, maybe we'll let Roxy give it a quick sniff for old times' sake.

*40 seconds later*

Roxy: IT IS THE BEST THING EVAR

Go fig.

Oh, yeah, also, it's my birthday. For those who take an interest in such things.

WHAWAZZAT?!?

Around 3:30 a.m.:

*HUGE HORRIBLE SNAPCRACKLEPOP NOISE FROM OUTSIDE*

It woke all three of us (CM, Roxy and me) out of a sound sleep.

"WHAWAZZAT?!?" I hollered (my typical suave and articulate self even at that hour).

"It sounded like a tree falling," said CM. We have several large trees growing beside our house, and he assumed the combination of recent copious rain and unhealthy tree had made one of them fall over in the middle of the night.

We hadn't actually heard the moment of impact, and I was panicking -- what if it's just leaning against another tree? what if it keeps falling and hits the house?! -- so Captain Midnight stoically donned some clothes and went out to take a look at the damage. It was too dark to tell if a tree had fallen in the vacant lot to one side of us, but there wasn't any obvious damage -- no half-fallen tree looming over the house or threatening the lawn or anything -- so he came back to bed.

This morning, on his way to work, Captain Midnight took a photo of this just across the street.

WILLOW TREE OF DEATH!

Apparently the huge horrible noise was the sound of our neighborhood willow, weighed down by too much water and too little support on one side of the trunk, finally giving in to gravity. So we didn't just imagine it. And we're glad nobody's person or property were hurt (well, aside from the tree itself). But it is a bit sad to see this willow die; it's been there since we first moved in.

Please help us find Roxy -- October 16 update

NOTE: Roxy has been found! See below.

Our cat Roxy has been missing since yesterday around noon. I was trying to get her into a cat carrier to take her to a vet appointment, and she slipped away from her collar and bolted out an open window. She is an indoor-only cat who has never been outside for any extended period, and she is very timid and shy of strangers. We hope she is hiding somewhere near home, but have not seen any sign of her since she escaped. She has a collar and tags, but is not currently wearing them; however, she is microchipped. Roxy knows her name, but is probably too afraid to come when called right now.

Here's the rest of the info:

Name: Roxy
Breed: Domestic shorthair (probable mix)
Age: 1 1/2
Color/Markings: Black and light reddish-brown tortoiseshell with "split-face" markings (see photo below), yellow-green eyes
Sex: Female (spayed)
Weight: about 11 pounds
Microchip number: [REDACTED]
Last seen: 12 October 2015, 12:15 p.m., South Redmond, WA neighborhood near the Meadows subdivision

This is our most recent photo of Roxy.

If you have found or seen Roxy, please call [REDACTED] and reference her microchip number. Also, if you happen to live in our neighborhood, please pass this post on to as many people as possible and share on social media (Facebook shares would be especially helpful, as I'm not on there any more). We have contacted Animal Control, have done several perimeter checks on the property, will be blanketing our neighborhood with posters and picking up a humane trap from the shelter where we adopted her, but anything you can do to spread the word to someone who might have seen her would be so appreciated. We are heartsick over losing her.

Thank you.

ETA (10/16/15): Captain Midnight checked the humane trap this morning, and what to our wondering eyes should appear?

YES! Piteously meowing Roxy-cat, who had been lured in there by the siren call of sardines!

Thanks so much to everyone who helped us get this wandering kitty home again. We are so very grateful to have her back safe and apparently unharmed (aside from double the amount of typical skittishness, which should calm down over time).

I love a good happy ending, don't you?

P.S. Roxy is very affectionate on her own terms. She doesn't much like to sit in laps...

...but she still manages to get close to her people. Here she's taking up about half of Captain Midnight's computer chair.

Yay V!

See this cute (and smart) girl?

Her family came to Seattle this weekend to see her do this.

It was a large crowd, but I was persistent and eventually found her.

A rather blurry pic of V being presented. (It was the best I could do from up in the nosebleed section.)

Here's a better one.

Miss V graduated in her school colors of red and white. And as she walked across the stage to receive her diploma, this silly, sweet thought flashed through my mind:

And out of the pieces of red and white shell,
From the egg that he'd sat on so long and so well,
Horton the Elephant saw something whizz!
It had ears
And a tail
And a trunk just like his!

I'm so very proud of her.

Both of V's parents were here, PLUS both her grandmas, AND she received beautiful flowers and a necklace from her great-grandma. The day after commencement, everybody had a chance to get together, eat, tell family stories and celebrate V's achievement.

My sisters and V went to Pike Place Market and brought back a loverly bouquet of flowers. 'Cause they're thoughtful like that.

Also, Michele decided to take advantage of any downtime during the trip to Make Some Art. Here is what she made:

The Roxy triptych, inspired by our very own Roxy-cat.

Made with small canvases from Daiso, lots of origami and other found paper, scissors and Mod Podge galore.

Sadly, Roxy-cat really does like to drink from the Forbidden Fountain. She has been teaching us to put the lid down. Every. Single. Time.

Also, we went to The Crab Pot to bash some seafood.

It is a time-honored tradition, as we come from a long line of seafood-bashing people.

Here, my sister Wonder Woman demonstrates proper bashing stance.

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

Alas, no leftovers came home for the Roxy-cat. We bashed that seafood but good.

BUBBLES!

Apparently the young Captain Midnight was a dead ringer for this child.
However, his parents rarely dressed him like Little Lord Fauntleroy, which is probably just as well.

Yes, it's time again to get giddy over blowing bubbles like a little kid!

While doing an Epic Late-Night Grocery Run tonight, I noticed one of those majestic mondo bubble wands they have for sale this time of year. It cost less than a dollar. Thereafter followed one of those mental calculus moments: well, I could be evil and buy a chocolate bar that's bad for my blood sugar, or I could pick up one of these things instead and be goofily enchanted by blowing bubbles for some time to come.

It was a no-brainer.

Off to blow bubbles in the yard! (Doing it in the house scares Roxy.)