Cupcake Lost And Found

It was election day, so I was working the usual 12-hour shift as an election judge. This election, Dena wasn't working it so she brought me lunch before heading over to the Peoria hospital to visit her dad.

Just before leaving she hesitated to tell me, then informed me that "Cuppie is nowhere to be found."

She'd spent 15 minutes looking everywhere, in the usual and not-so-usual hiding spaces, calling her name without response. When she returned for lunch, she found Cuppie's food untouched. That was a red alert.

What other explanation could there be other than an accidental escape out the door as I slunk out in the groggy blackness of 5am to get to the polls?

Dena had to run. I had to stay, for at least another eight hours. The autumn sun would only set and the temperature drop into the forties between now and then. The image of her cowering and shaking under a shed somewhere, or worse, haunted me. What if she had to search for warmth? She'd gotten out of her collar recently so had no identification on her.

I sat down in my election judge chair, but slowly slipped toward a zombified state of woe.

I couldn't wait. I snuck home. (Sorry, election law.)

I searched under the shed. Nothing. Under all the bushes. Nothing. Entered the house and upended the main floor. Then the upstairs floor. Then down to the basement.

Not in the crawlspace either. I had faint hope that she'd be in the rafters, reflecting on how Dena had pointed out a week ago how much she liked the dark and warmth.

Then, a flashback to 4am. I'm groping around the bedroom while Dena slept. Pulled open a shirt drawer, which Cuppie crawled into and clawed around. Five minutes later, seeing no sign of her, I shut it. Could she have buried herself in the clothes?

Climbing two stairs at a time, I reached for the handle and felt an unusual heaviness as I slid it open.

Out popped a more-than-ready pink nose, followed by blinking eyes and an instantly affectionate kitty.

Quite a weird dual and dueling sensation of overwhelming joy and guilt. The thought of being wedged into stuffy, warm darkness, unable to see, move, eat or be heard, with questionable oxygen levels, was a sad picture.

Then, a blend of horror and gratefulness. Suppose I hadn't had that flashback, would she have been in there overnight? Or, if I didn't need a T-shirt the next day, even longer? But I did. And Dena saved her at least another eight hours by deciding to let me know. Otherwise I would have found out that she was missing around 11pm. That would not have ended well. But this did.

God has quite a sense of humor. And we have quite a forgiving little kitten, who might choose other places to nestle for a while.