... there are many times that I sit down to write and wish I was Bev - this
is another of these times.

After dragging my discouraged rear-end around to 96 homes dropping off
flyers, crying my eyes out, looking behind every nook and cranny that I was
legally allowed to look, I came home with tear-stained face to talk to my
husband and kids over dinner.  We got a call from a friend who asked us to
come out to an end of school party for my daughter's class and we decided to
go.  Before I get flamed here, I have to say that running around looking for
him has never found him before - I spent the entire day looking for him and
I couldn't find him.  I didn't know what else I could do but wait for the
phone to ring or his yowl at the back door.  My mom had offered to whip up
the street and check for him every half hour.

Just as we were driving up to the house, my cell phone rang and it was a
woman in the court two houses away from us accross the street.  They had
flooded and so had their basement windows open.  A cat had come in the
window, that swung in, but didn't seem to be able to get out.  It had been
in their house hiding in the basement and they thought it had gotten out.
They went to their funeral, came back, and found the cat under the bed in
the basement.  They opened all the windows and doors of the house and
thought it had escaped ... then they found my flyer in their mailbox and
called me.  They dutifully noted that, in their absence, all the front
curtains had been torn down by something <cringe>.  I left the family at the
party, drove back to town, and arrived at the house with can food tin and
spoon in hand.  I wandered around their house yelling "are you HUNGRY
Otis???", "do you want a TREAT?", while tapping a can.  No luck.  He must
have gotten out.

I left feeling slightly hopeful that it might have been Otis and that he was
making his way home.  Just as I arrived again at the out of town house, the
phone range and woman now had the cat under her couch.  We're both thinking,
at this time, that he must either really have to pee or has done so in her
basement.  My mom lives two houses from the woman as well, so, because I was
further away, my mom trotted over the cat carrier and food.  Otis dutifully
came out from under the chesterfield, went in the box, and came home.  She
phoned me immediately and the entire room errupted in cheers for Otis.

Who else would get himself locked in somebody's flooded basement, rip his
hosts curtains down, and probably pee in their basement?

I am so ever thankful that he is home and safe.  I'll be paying for
repairing curtains, I'll be de-oderizing some very nice people's basement,
and taking them a thank you gift.  Tonight, Otis will sleep curled up in my
arms.

Thank you all again for your patience with my Otis.

Susan M
Otis and Chester