The Poo-poo Pants of Trauma

The cats get locked in the house every evening, hopefully by dusk. I don't want them running around outside in the night, it's too dangerous -- not just cars and perverse humans, but we have coyotes in the area.

Sachi is more of a home kitty than Kitsu, she's usually in the house already when Kitsu finally decides it's time to come in.

Tonight though, Kitsu came in and no Sachi.

I went outside and called. I came inside and called. I rattled the crunchie bag and poured food into the dish. I looked in the tool shed and the spare room and the cupboards. No Sachi.

I hate it when I don't know where the cats are.

I was owned by Esmerelda for 20 years and Handsome for 10, they both died after I moved to Utah. I've adopted and lost two more cats since, Pandora and Brianna. I don't think I could stand to lose another. I love my cats, they're my kids.

It's 1:00 in the morning and Sachi just came in. She came wailing up the stairs from the cat door. As soon as I got near her, I could tell by the smell that she had poo-poo pants. Which means something bad and scary happened to her. I washed her back half and checked her out thoroughly. Found no physical damage. Then I gave her cat cookies to apologize for the bath and let her know I still love her. She's sulking in the cat tube now.

I wish I had magic powers to keep my cats healthy, happy and safe for long lives like Esmerelda had. I don't want them to ever to experience the poo-poo pants of trauma.