Andy and I have obtained a cat. His name is Mort Goldman (fondly after the hypochondriatic character from Family Guy) and he was graciously rescued by my friend Megan and her mom.
This little cat has been my joy for the five weeks that we have had him. He is silly and loves to play (at 4:30 am). He loves sitting in Andy's shoes and is fascinated by the laces. He has learning to climb and exercises his muscles regularly (most recently on our Christmas tree). But Mort now is not the Mort we brought home in November.
November 14th: April was scheduled to come into town for the NKOTB concert and I was scheduled to pick up a kitten. After months of bugging Andy about getting a cat, he finally caved when my friend, Megan, posted that she found a kitten that needed a home. How could he say no?
After work, I rushed home, grabbed andy, and we drove to Ogden to retrieve our new family member. It was, indeed, love at first sight. Megan's mom handed me the kitten and he immediately snuggled into my neck and began purring.
This was the cat for me. After an emotional goodbye, we brought the kitten home.
At this point, the cat remained nameless. He stayed in his crate, absolutely petrified by our enormous one bedroom apartment. To encourage him, I made a trail of food out of the crate. No good. I tried to lure him out by introducing a small moving object such as a shoelace. That sent him into a panic. Andy suggested that I give up and let him come out on his own terms. Ok. I went to set up the litter box. Hours passed and the cat remained frozen in his carrier. Nothing I did seemed to help ease his anxiety.
The time came to pick my sister up from the airport. I moved the cat carrier into the laundry room (which held his food, water and litter box).
When April and I walked into the apartment, I immediately raced to his carrier to see if he had gained courage in my absence. The crate was empty! Frantic, I began searching the apartment to see where he could be.
April and I looked behind the washer and dryer, in all of the cupboards, behind the dvds, behind the tv, behind and under the couch, behind the refigerator, under the bed, behind the dresser, in the closet, under the ottoman, behind the bookshelves, in the garbage, behind the toilet, in the shower, in the fireplace, up the fireplace...everywhere. I stripped the bed, pulled all of the laundry out and then rechecked all of those places. April helped me search and then went to check outside to see if he had escaped while we came in. No kitty was to be found.
I panicked and called Andy. I begged Andy to come home and help me look. 'Don't worry, Candace. He'll come out when he's ready.' You don't understand!! I can't find him anywhere! What if he is stuck somewhere?! What if he is outside in the cold?!!? What if he is starving?!?
Extremely distraught, I decided to take Andy's advice and just wait for him to come out.
Four hours passed with no sign of the cat. Andy finally came home and noticed that I was less than calm. Andy did a quick sweep through the apartment and told me that the cat was under the fridge. Not behind it, under it. That means that April and I moved the refrigerator to look behind it while he was still under it.
We moved the fridge and pulled the now smelly cat out.
He immediately snuggled and began purring. Turns out he didn't want to be left alone. He got scared in such a big place.