Happy Returns
You Know Nothing, Jon Snow
Hello Friends,
As some of you may have noticed last week, after waffling about whether I should take a break from this newsletter, I did not send out my routine installment. It was the first Thursday since I began writing these emails that I skipped.
The reason: heartbreak. (Also, lack of sleep, sadness, disappointment, days of running on adrenaline)
My little cat, Olive, the vibrant life-force of our household and an indoor feline, snuck out of the house on Sunday night and disappeared into the rainy darkness. We didn't realize it until she had been gone for several hours, catching a glimpse of her on the doorbell camera, as she slipped away.
Up all night combing the neighborhood, calling her name, asking anyone I found out late into the morning.
The next day, when the reality set in, we posted on websites, made signs, told friends and family, and continued walking around the streets within a mile of our house.
Eventually, on Thursday, we hired a pet recovery company, Wandering Paws K9, who showed up the next day with a dog and a heat-seeking drone. With her help, we identified a possible location of where Olive had been and set up a game camera. We then spent the next 48 hours watching videos, planting food, and running to the spot when anything fuzzy appeared.
We discovered that there are a lot of cats in our neighborhood who look like Olive. But, for us, no luck.
Not knowing is the worst. It lets your mind create all kinds of awful scenarios. Knowing allows the mourning process to begin.
A week of sleeplessness, anxiety, crank calls, unhelpful negative opinions, and sadness finally caught up to us. Distraught on Sunday (a week later), we began the process of letting go.
Then, around noon on what was an unseasonably cold and rainy day, we got a knock on our front door.
Our friend Lydia, who was our postal carrier for years and had been stopping off and visiting Olive since she was a kitten whenever we were hanging out in our backyard catio (a fenced-in patio for cats), was standing at the door with a pet carrier. Olive was inside and ready to be home.
Lydia, who now works another route in another town, decided, out of absolute kindness, to look around our neighborhood and found her. She saw Olive sitting on a porch about 3 blocks away. She approached her, corralled her into a shed that just so happened to have an empty cat carrier nestled in the corner, and scooped her up.
The little devil is now back with us, sporting a new bright pink collar and an air tag. After a week on a walkabout, she is home. And all is right in the world (I mean, aside from all that other miserable stuff that keeps us awake, strung out on adrenaline, and angry)
I really didn't want to write an email last week about sadness. So, I didn't. And now, I don't have to.
And, more re-appearances
This week, I read about the supposed de-extinction of the Dire Wolf by the same company that brought us the Wooley Mouse. It's controversial.
But it never hurts when these returned animals are just so darn cute.
We would probably never even know that there was an animal called a Dire Wolf without Game of Thrones.
And, speaking of returns, someone spotted a new comet, SWAN25F, that we can see with clear skies and a pair of binoculars. You know I love comets. It's been so rainy and cloudy here, I haven't been able to catch it, although there is still hope by the end of the month.
And don't forget about the Lyrid meteor shower this weekend.
Look up, look around, and sometimes you have to let go to find (a lesson for another newsletter).
Happy reading, happy writing, happy looking.
David