The Gingerbear King was not in sight, worrying Michael. Walking through the backyard, he peered around bushes and under trees, searching the usual spider holes where the cat stole away. Recovering from dental work, the cat had been lethargic and distant, hiding and sleeping. Each hour brought more worry about his health.
Michael had last seen him two hours before. Cold mountain air was sliding into the valley as the sun escaped view, taking sunshine and heat with it. After checking the backyard, Michael circled to the front and checked those regular rest spots.
The cat was nowhere.
"Scheckter," he called, expanding the search. "Scheckter." He listened for an answer.
Deciding he needed to be more diligent in his search, he headed for the backyard anew. Quinn the Black Paw joined him as escort, prancing, dancing and chatting, a carefree, wide-eyed, happy cat. "Come on, Quinn. Come with me. Help me find the Ginger Bear."
The two entered the backyard. Quinn quickened his pace, moving into the lead, and then drew up in the center of the yard. "Meow, meow, meow," he uttered sharply, loudly, in a manner he'd not displayed before.
Michael stared at him, wondering what was wrong and what the cat knew. He was staring at the back fence...what did he see? Michael tried to peer like a cat but saw nothing.
From the yard's other side came Scheckter, the Gingerbear King. Tail up, he walked straight up to Quinn. The two exchanged news via whiskers and sniffing and separated. Scheckter ambled toward Michael as Quinn stalked and attacked an insect. Michael picked Scheckter up. Scheckter responded with a quiet purr. Had Quinn called Scheckter out of hiding? Michael liked to believe that was so. "Thanks, Quinn," he said.
Quinn raced off on another secret mission without acknowledging his thanks.
It's the cat way.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com