The morning started off mostly cloudy, and clouds blew around overhead all day long producing some interesting skies. In the late afternoon, we had dramatic pre-storm light. It’s overcast and raining this evening, so no moonshot tonight.
Spunk’s recollection of his disappearance is that he fell into one of the many wormholes on the property and slipped into a parallel cataverse, like so many other things that have mysteriously disappeared around here. He said he believes he was in the same location, but everything was different. A snow-covered, plowed field was where our house is now. There were other buildings by the cottonwoods, but the only structure he recognized was the “chicken shed”. He said some of the cottonwoods looked similar but smaller and there were trees he didn’t recognize. He said when he stood in the field where our house should have been, he could hear us calling him but he couldn’t find how to get back to us. The days turned into a week and then another week. He caught a few mice and stayed in the chicken shed for some protection from the cold nights. On Monday he said he heard a cacophony of voices, hundreds of voices calling his name “Come home Spunk! Come home Spunk!” He followed the voices and found a spot where he could slip through a tear in the space-time continuum and slipped out of the parallel cataverse he had been trapped in. After he stepped through the rip in space, he thought he might have come to yet a different parallel cataverse than the one he was looking for because the deck now had doors and it was wired in like the catio, keeping him from going up to the French doors on the sunroom. But then Laurie came out and collected him and he knew he had made it back to the proper cataverse.
I called to make an appointment with the vet to have Spunk checked out and they had an appointment available today. Since Spunk was sneezing and acting a little dumpy, I figured I should go ahead and take him in at the first available appointment. I drove home from work, collected Spunk, and surprisingly, he only meowed a lot on the way to the vet, instead of is usual “get me out of the crate!” maniacal behavior he goes into while driving to the vet. I dropped him off and went back to work. He got tested, examed by a young, pretty veterinarian, and he got attention from cute veterinary assistants, so on the way home he acted like his normal maniacal self in the crate meowing, clawing, and rolling around like an alligator trying to drown its prey. It was a long drive home with all the stupid drivers really annoying me given I had a wild cat trying his darndest to break out of the carrier so he could make me crash the car. We finally made it home where I had to bless him multiple times and give him a lot of extra attention for what he thought amounted to cat abuse for taking him back home after being in kitty heaven among all those beautiful women at the veterinary clinic.
All the tests came back normal. He has a slight kitty cold. The vet thinks it’s viral so we will just keep an eye on him. But he does not have a fatty liver or other maladies that can result from going weeks without food or water. The vet noted he had lost “a little weight” but was now about the weight he should be. All our fat cats noted that Spunk being a fat cat himself before he disappeared served him well during his time trapped in a parallel cataverse with little or no real food and water.
Spunk, Laurie and I thank all of you for sending out your hundreds of calls for Spunk to come home that led him to the tear in the space-time continuum that allowed him to slip back into the proper caterverse.
The way Spunk described the property while he was in the parallel caterverse. Our property circa 1958. The chicken shed, which is the only building left standing, is on the right. You might notice there are no towers on the Sandias. That’s an outhouse and goat shed on the left under Resa’s tree.