Orie

            Orie, our ancient tabby cat, disappeared.  We noticed as Mom got ready for bed last night.

            We peered into every closet door in the house.  I looked under all the furniture.  He was nowhere. 

            What happened?  I went out with the flashlight about ten p.m. to walk around the house and look under the porches.  I walked over to the shop and checked the shop office.  We never even noticed that he wasn’t around at suppertime.

            My heart-sickening theory is that he went off to die.  One afternoon earlier this week—I think it was after I got the mail—I came in the house and saw the side door was wide open.  Orie was out sniffing around on the porch at the freezer.  (He used to be an outdoor cat, but with how slow and frail he has gotten, we haven’t let him out of the house in at least six months.)  Mom was in the kitchen cutting the end plastic off her freezer treat.  It is totally possible that while I was at my life group yesterday afternoon she left a door open and he wandered out.  There is plenty of woods to get lost in.

            It’s the suddenness that shocks me.  Even though I wondered how long he could hold on as old as he is (somewhere around eighteen) and even though I’ve been so frustrated with his accidents and so tired of a litter box in the hallway, I never expected to miss him like this.  I didn’t get to say good-bye.