- Several excellent years followed, during which time Sami blimped up to 13.5 pounds, enjoyed life, and escaped harm—not counting the little things, like him getting chomped on the face by an enemy and having to wear a cone for two weeks. He disappeared just before sunrise on the morning of December 12, 2015, when Susan let him out after he’d slept most of the night on a living room chair. Usually he would nose around for a while and then sit near the front door, waiting to be let back in and fed. But on that day, he didn’t return.
It was now a month later. It snowed hard the day Sami vanished, plus a couple more times after that; most nights, the temperature plunged into the low teens. Various attempts to find him—a barrage of classified ads, posters, flyers, and boots-on-the-ground searches—hadn’t worked, and I had trouble imagining how Sami could survive that long in such frigid conditions.
Cats are amazing. Neither of my guys go outside right now (I've moved at least once a year, and often more, for the past 10 years now; it's stupid to let a cat out in an environment that isn't going to be their home in another few months). Of all my childhood cat-pets none of them never came home, but some of them came home in pretty bad shape. I'm following a woman on facebook right now whose service dog has been lost for months. I really just want to hear that the dog's been found and has come home. It's a sad story. I recognize why others might call, just to find out if the cat in this story had made its way home. Poor boyo. I'm glad that eventually, he did.
I love this about cats. They're equal parts "I don't need you" and "I really like you."Sami and Susan had a long petting-and-purring lovefest, after which, uncharacteristically, he glued himself to my lap for hours.