I got the Missing-Cat-&-My-Baby-Wants-a-Haircut Blues

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Adding to my gloom about the missing badcat is the fact that when I told the boys I had a haircut appointment booked for them, the Cherub announced that he no longer wants long hair. Because (a) he doesn't like it blowing in his face when it is windy and (b) he is sick of people that don't know him thinking he's a girl. Further conversation revealed that one or two boys in his class had been teasing him about looking like a girl. Although I don't think he looks like a girl, in my heart I knew this day would come. And of course I will respect his wishes, because I do see that that must be annoying for him.

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I'm sure all the grandparents will be relieved but Fixit and I are going to miss his cloud of hair and I assume we're going to get a shock every time we look at him for the next few weeks. All I can do is put my faith in our hairdresser, hoping that she can strike a balance between Boy and Cherub.

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When Do You Give Up Hope?

Bertie Wooster has been missing for nearly 6 nights . This is a very long time in the life of a cat who has never gone AWOL before. Being the hopeful Pollyanna type I just kept thinking he'd be back at any moment. Every time I left the house I would re-enter it expectantly, straining my ears to hear the padding of his little feet and a boisterous meow demanding food NOW! It has finally dawned on me if he could have come home, he would have by now. He's micro-chipped, he's desexed, so I just thought he'd either come back or that someone official would have called me. On Friday I put some notices up at the local shops, and tonight the whole family walked the nearby streets calling him. Tomorrow I'll call some vets and I think I'll do a letterbox drop asking our neighbours to check their sheds or garages for a little locked-in Burmese. I should probably have done this 3 days ago but I just thought he'd be home by now.

He's left such a gap. I miss his purry little presence in the bed at night as he snuggled down next to me, I miss his slightly grumpy presence of an evening as he lay in front of the heater getting so hot he became cranky and flicked his tale in an irritated manner before finally dragging himself up and re-settling on one of our laps. I even miss the really annoying way he would trip me up and deafen me in the kitchen whilst I cooked because he thought I ought to attend to his stomach before those of the humans.

The boys are okay so far, they're fleetingly sad if they think about it but it's only really tonight that the he might never come back scenario has been raised, rather bluntly, by Fixit-the-Pessimist. I suppose he had to do it, given that in my heart of hearts I really thought Bertie would return to us. I don't really know what to say to the boys, to be honest. I hate admitting to myself that we might never see him again, much less to them. I can't even bring myself to pack up the forlorn cat-food dishes, because that might make it real.