Life: Idiotropic

It's 1:42 am and I've already been up a while after being asleep may be an hour. Two little girls lay on the guest bed behind me curled up having just fallen asleep to the soothing music of Jim Brickman. Twenty four hours ago we thought we'd be packed now, heading to Barcelona in the morning. But this afternoon we canceled our hotel and for the first time ever canceling a trip, I actually felt ok.

I should be blogging about the bull run or the parade we saw tonight. The culture is rich and endless in Spain.

But no matter where I find myself, there my family is, as it should be, and tonight - these last couple days, they are the ones that occupy my thoughts. My girls, their school, our family time together, and Misha.

It's been almost 50 hours since I've seen my cat. The most amazing cat who's been in my life and part of my family for over 21 years. I saw her last on Wednesday afternoon as I backed out of the driveway. She was sitting by the garage door wanting in, but I was in a hurry, running late, and wouldn't be gone long. She never goes anywhere.

I got home, I took care of the girls, I grilled hamburgers for dinner. I didn't think about Misha. She's always there. All the house doors were open. She could come in at any time. But she wasn't by my pillow that night. She wasn't curled up in the sunny spot in the garage the following morning. I've searched everywhere. I told the security at the gates and the ones who drive circles around the neighborhoods all day. We called the animal shelter. We've taken walks.

The parade tonight was great. I saw the costumes and took pictures. But being home kills me. I keep looking for her where she should be, wandering to the garage door where I saw her last. Twenty one years. I know she lived a wonderful life. It was going to be "time" eventually, but I want her here now. I need to see her, to know she's ok, or to know where she is and if she's hurt. She transcended "cat" a long time ago and became, everything. A friend, family, caregiver of sorts. She ran to my girls when they cried as babies. She'd jump into their crib and sleep always by their feet. Sweet, patient. They loved her and she tolerated even their most difficult stages. She used to take walks with us...

So we're here. Waiting and hoping. The house sitter who was going to stay with the dog and cats had a cousin in town and it didn't feel right to leave anyway... not if there was any chance of Misha coming home. So I hold out hope though it's fleeting fast.

My youngest two sleep soundly now. I hope it lasts the night. We all need sleep. Who knows what tomorrow will bring now.