Last night, or rather yesterday the cat got out. Which somehow Hubby convinced me was okay because he figured that because the one other time he got out, he came back. So for some inexplicable reason, I went along with it. Until of course, it started to get dark.
So I started to worry.
He put in one of my movies to take my mind off it. So we watched Cheaper by the Dozen. Or tried to anyway. I kept walking outside to the deck and calling the cat.
After the movie he looks at me and says "I'm kinda worried too, the stupid little bastard has grown on me a little. Cause he hasn't been being a prick to me lately."
He and Thomas* are mortal enemies. They usually hate each other. Ever since we found him outside a bar one night, Tommy scratched up his speakers so hubby had him declawed and neutered. So they hate each other. Or rather he hates the cat. The cat ignores him now. He used to hiss and run away everytime he saw him.
Anyway, we went outside to search for Tommy. In the dark with the dogs because I am a big fat scaredy cat. We walked the full perimeter of our yard and then searched the sheds because you never know. Then just as we are about to head back, Jenny takes off running at full speed to the house. So I run after her because she may have seen a bear and was being smart.
What do I discover sitting there like he was there all along? Tommy.
The little bastard.
* Thomas is the name my mom gave to him when he came to live with her for a while, Thomas short for Thomas O'Malley, the Alley Cat. Get it? His original name given by me was Pumpkin because he was so small and his head was sooo big. Hubby named him Buster. The cat in question hates both the names we gave to him and will shoot you a dirty glare if you call him one.
Of course I came back. It's dirty out there ya know.