This crazy adventure all began one drunken Saturday night. (isn't that how all crazy adventures start?)

After one failed run to the lake, then a long swim in Matt's dad's pool (and the asthma fun there followed by a misplaced phone), our group decided that it was time for dinner. It was just before 10pm, so the grocery store was still open for business. The boys decided to grill - they said it would be too hot to turn the oven on. They return to the car with all the fixin's for beef gyros, a tub of ice cream, and a box to make red velvet cake. (Don't ask. Apparently it would be too hot in the house to bake chicken, but it would be alright to bake a cake...???)

Then the drinking began. We played pool. We watched television. We drank. We ate. We laughed. We drank. Did I mention we drank?

At 4am, I decided I had had enough. I was wobbly, but not overly drunk. (Ok, maybe I'm lying a little here...there was A LOT of my bottle of Grey Goose missing...) I kissed Jason good night, said my good-evening's to the crowd, and scratched Brutus behind the ears. He was sleeping on the back of the couch behind Jason and didn't even flinch, so I let him be.

(Later, I would make the comment "What if...I had taken him to bed like normal?", but that is beside the point)

Saturday morning, I rolled over, looked at the clock, and went back to sleep. Several times, in fact, before finally crawling out of bed about 10:15 or so. I sat and chit-chatted with Ashley before she left to get family portraits done. Shane had already left after sleeping on the couch, Karen had left the night before, and Matt and Jason were both still passed out. So I decided cleaning was in order. I gathered all of the trash, made a mental note to pull together the laundry and get it started, then scooped the kitty litter. I love the litter I buy - it now takes literally five minutes! Then I cleaned up the garage, replaced the cover on the pool table, put away cue sticks, etc. With that task finished, I then decided to focus on the kitchen. Ugh, what a mess! I covered the cake, then started to stack dishes from the table and counter next to the sink. I then looked up to grab the dish soap and froze.

My heart stopped.

My hand began to tremble.

I caught my breath.

My heart resumed beating, but so rapidly, the hangover I had yet to feel, would feel like an icepack to my head.

I blinked several times.

Surely, I was seeing things! That window...above the sink...it couldn't have been open all night!

Then I realized I hadn't seen any of the cats. Not a single one.

I immediately turned around and prowled through the house. Pandora was sunning in the window, under a table. One down! Hera...where's Hera? In her tower! There's two! Now...Brutus....


Brutus...

...the only one that likes to use the kitchen window as a door...

...I returned to the kitchen. The vases were shifted. But...but...but that could have been whoever opened the window...right? Right?!

I ran through the house. I looked everywhere. Behind the fish tanks. Under all the furniture. I made the complete circuit of his favorite hiding holes. I even found a stash of toys I didn't know existed. I became frantic. I grabbed the bag of treats. He ALWAYS comes running when I shake the bag.

But this time...

...he didn't.

I tried to be quiet while I searched a second and third time. Jason woke up on my next pass through the bedroom. I know my voice wavered. I didn't want to cry. "The kitchen window was open. I can't find Brutus." That's all I said. He was out of bed, dressed, and looking around the neighborhood within two minutes.

I wasn't much help for anything after that. I was dazed for the remainder of the day. I put together [a flier] and Ashley drove me around the neighborhood to post them.

I was a wreck Monday at work. (Although, I will admit that I had a wonderful idea wearing [heavy eye makeup] to keep from crying...and I wish it didn't take forever to do, it looks good!)

Tuesday was much the same. But Jason had an idea. A wonderful idea.

He wanted to hire Dog Gone Detectives to help find Brutus. I knew my big 'fraidy cat, and he would be too afraid to make it home on his own any time soon.

They were here tonight (- err, last night? I hate staying up so late) and, wow. Just...wow.

They brought out two chocolate Labradors. Bosco hunted first. Then Godiva. Godiva was brought out only to confirm Bosco's trail. They both came to the same conclusion: Brutus was somewhere between our house and the end of the street, even though he had managed to get all around the block. But, Godiva, being the elder and more senior hunting dog, was pulled out to be the pinpoint hunter.

Upon review of the hunt, we all agree that Godiva had Brutus nailed, but because Brutus smelled like nothing but pee when we found him, she dismissed the concentrated scent as a territory marking. (And I do mean that. She stopped, sniffed the ground, then shook her head and then continued on)

Where was he? Across the street, down a house, INSIDE the rotting chimney wall. Yes, INSIDE the rotting chimney wall. He was so hungry. His fur was matted and full of grass burrs. He has a few scabbed bites on his ass. He smells like cat piss. But he is home.

He and I are headed to the vet first thing in the morning. It is a twenty-four hour emergency clinic, but I've had enough excitement. So he has an 8am appointment.

He gets to enjoy the pinch of booster shots. And I will be requesting prices on a microchip. Maybe find out if a GPS chip is available. Sync it up with my phone.



And the big baby? When I picked him up, he was shaking, mewling, and nudging my hand for more treats (I lured him out of the chimney with them). Once he got inside the house, he acted like he was king. Like he went off to battle, then came home to gloat over his conquests. AND HE TRIED TO SLIP BACK OUTSIDE!

That damn cat will be the death of me. But I love him.