Here stands Maynard. Old cat, he and his sister have been in the family for over ten years. But he was the ever inquisitive cat, getting stuck in the darnest of places, like attics and crawlspaces.
Well, he went and disappeared a few months back, vanished like the morning mist early one morning. Heather searched high and low for him, even going into storm drains to find him with no luck. His sister even called out for him when they went searching the neighborhood for him.
I almost give up hope and then there are the dreams.
I don't know if it just my imagination, but since he has disapeared, I have dreamed of him. I don't dream a lot, and I almost never remember my dreams. But I dream of him.
I dreamed of him in the storm drains, carrying him out with him meowing at me like there is no tomorrow. Last night, I dreamed of him running around a house, and when I caught him, he growled at me and he had lost his mole that is promimently affixed to his chin.
I only bring this up to talk about the connection one feels with a pet. Maynard was my cat. We shared traits of curiosity to the point of dangerous, of sometimes annoying to family, of being destructive of furniture sometimes, etc.
and then I read this post from Xavier. And then my eyes got dust in them and I thought of my Maynard.
Gah, can't wait to go home...about 50 days left.
pwolfman
