Days went by with no evidence of Gray Kitty’s presence.
I began to worry.
Mew mew mew! I called and called.
This cat cry almost always works.
At first I was sad, and then mad.
How could he forget all that we’ve done for him?
First, rescuing him from the vet after a run-in with a blade:
Then we removed his man parts so he wouldn’t roam (no photos, just his response to it):
And what about the broken leg? Did he forget this, too?
We even let him into the house; that’s a monumental expression of our care:
Three days passed, and just about the time I was preparing to scatter cat food wistfully toward the sky as I symbol of my moving on, I heard the unique mew mew mew that belonged to my sweet gray kitty, and I went toward the cattle yard and picked him up and squeezed him.
Don’t ever ever do that again, I said.
And we did shake on it, and for now, all is well on the farm.