At 11:20ish last night I was in bed, reading and I heard the cats TEARING through the house. Every owner of multiple cats (or a single, hyper cat) knows the sound – claws RIPPING across the carpet. I didn’t think anything of this, as Pip and Mostly can chase each other through the house for hours. But then I heard BANG! BANGTHUD. I grabbed my glasses and got up to investigate. When I opened my door, Indy was in the hallway looking freaked. Kelly came out of her room a few seconds later and saw Pandora behind me, also looking spooked. Mostly and Pip were nowhere to be seen. This is weird, because the second Kelly or I are out of our rooms, there are there are 1-3 cats following our every move. (And Pandora is not one of those.)
We checked the living room… nothing
Kelly checked the kitchen… nothing
I checked the bathroom… nothing
I checked my room… nothing
While I was in my room, I heard a little muffled meow. I told Kelly to come in, then made her stand perfectly still and listen, but of course it didn’t happen again. So, we kept looking.
Our apartment is small; there aren’t really that many hiding spots. As we were looking, Mostly suddenly appeared (seriously, like out of thin air) looking TERRIFIED. She doesn’t have a tail, but the rest of her was all puffed up and her eyes were WILD, but still no Pip.
Right about here is when I started to solidly freak out, because Mostly looked insane and the only time Pip has ever hidden was the day he ripped his entire claw out and hid under the couch for two hours afterwards.
Kelly shook the treats and dumped some on the floor which ALWAYS gets Pip to run into the room. Nothing.
We kept looking and I heard the muffled meow again. Kelly said, “I think that’s Indy.” This is plausible because Indy is what you would call a loud mouth. If your sentence ends in anything remotely sounding like a question, he feels the need to answer. So, as we’re both wandering around calling “Piiiiipsteeeer…”, it was believable that Indy could have been answering us.
But then I heard the meow from the opposite side of the house. I went into the kitchen and called “Piiiiipsteeeer”. Immediately, I heard the meow.
“NO,” I said, “It’s coming from in HERE. He’s in HERE.” There are about three places to hide in the kitchen so I looked inside the litter boxes, behind the pantry/baker’s rack, I even opened a cabinet as if Pip opened it, strolled in, closed the door behind him, and then got scared. Nothing. All the while, Pip meowed every time we called his name.
I followed the sound until I stood next to the window, which was open, but OBVIOUSLY he couldn’t be outside… And then I saw that the screen was gone and the window was just a giant, gaping hole. I looked out the window to see the entire screen laying on the balcony… and there is Pip. He looked TERRIFIED – his eyes were so big, you couldn’t even see the color, just black. His tail was puffed up to literally three times its usual size. He was just standing there, like he was frozen.
So here I am, 11:30 at night, in my pajamas, leaning out the kitchen window trying to grab my grown cat by the scruff so I can drag him back into the house. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach him. I didn’t want to open the balcony door because I didn’t want to startle him, and since we NEVER use the balcony, it’s partially blocked by storage cabinets.
Kelly and I are called out to him for several seconds while I pawed at him like some enraged bear… and finally Kelly started to climb out of the window (in hindsight, our new windows open so widely that I could’ve climbed out but I guess I’ve just got it in my head that I don’t fit through windows, so I didn’t even try. This frustrates me looking back on it because I WOULD HAVE GLADLY climbed through that window to grab him). As she starts to climb out, I backed up and kept calling his name and making the “pss pss” sound he responds to… when all of the sudden, he jumped up into the window.
Kelly grabbed him and I slammed the window (nice teamwork, actually). Poor Pip was so freaked that he dug all four paws (18 claws) in to Kelly – her chest and arm are all torn up and bruised from it. He calmed down pretty quickly, actually, but Mostly was terrified, trying to hide for a good 10 minutes afterwards.
Seriously, I know it’s a cat, but it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life! Very uncharacteristically, I stayed pretty calm during the entire fiasco, but once he was inside, eating treats with a normal-sized tail, I burst into tears. Today I keep running these horrible scenarios through my head about what could’ve happened, especially because I heard him LONG before we found him, which (if we’re being honest) also makes me feel like shit.
This may sound dramatic, but I just can’t get his scared little face out of my head or the vision of Mostly frantically looking for some place to hide. She tried to hide on a shelf of the entertainment center, behind the PS4.
I’ve said this many times and I will say it again, in writing: Why do people say “never a dull moment” like it’s a good thing? I CRAVE dull moments.