My girls aren’t good with cats. Whenever I see one while we are out for a walk, I tighten my grip on the leashes, anticipating the barking and pulling about to come.
Friday morning, we saw a white kitty with a black cap & tail. The girls reacted predictably. As we rounded the last corner, though, I saw its picture tacked up on the telephone pole:
I mostly ignore these signs because I have never seen the advertised pets, but this time was different, so I tore off the tag with the phone number. When I got home, I was filled with doubts. Was it really him? Is 7 a.m too early to call? The sign said night or day; did Buckley’s family really men that? So I called & left a message detailing where & when I had seen Buckley and hoping I hadn’t just woken someone up.
I checked my phone a few hours later & there was a message from Buckley’s mom, Frances. She was appreciative of my message & would go check out his last known whereabouts.
That afternoon, the girls & I saw Buckley crossing the road near our corner. I called Frances again when I got home and actually spoke to her, giving more details than I had earlier. She said she’d been to the area & called his name, but he hadn’t shown up. I encouraged her to keep trying. I explained how it would be impossible for me to walk the girls and pick up Buckley, but I’d do so if I was out without them & saw him. The tome of her voice made me really glad I’d called. She truly did appreciate hearing from me.
We haven’t seen him since Friday afternoon. I hope Frances and Buckley have been reunited. But I guess I’ll never know.
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