Feline

So... Watching the first 10 minutes of 28 Weeks Later at the train station is not a way to create a positive, motivated outlook for the rest of the day. I'm glad we've all learned this.

Our stupid cat escaped last night. Again. This time the first place we looked was the neighbour's yard she got into last time. No luck. We wandered the streets for a bit, doing the incredibly plaintive and somehow pathetic cat-food-bowl-shaking thing of cat parents everywhere. No joy. With Tanja and I sniping at one another from the stress, we headed home, only to hear faint meowing from over the fence. I knock on the neighbours door and he and I search the backyard and the side of the house, finding nothing. I go back out into the alley with Tanja, only to see Magrat shoot out from the damaged roller-door of the backyard I had so recently searched. We tried to approach her, but she shot away, with me pounding after her. Hot pursuit. She turned a corner... and disappeared. With both Tanja and I cursing, we wander around. Tanja finally gets her out from under a car, catching a few scratches for her trouble.

I'll leave a post script that a neighbourhood tomcat followed us around through this whole ordeal (which lasted more than an hour), happily trundling along, sometimes with me, sometimes with Tanja, looking under cars and bushes. He seemed to think this was all high adventure. I wanted to adopt the little Chaperone, but he probably belonged to someone. We'll leave some tinned food out for him.