No news is... no news

It's been five long weeks and Slinky is still missing. I've been holding out, hoping that my next blog post would be a warm and fuzzy reunion story... but no such luck. It's been really painful to realize that I'm "getting used to" her not being here along with all of the usual daily routines that come along with that. Slinky was a very active part of our household (as you can see, she even supervised our renovations) and after ten years of companionship it's very hard to adjust to life without her.

I've been truly floored by the kindness of strangers - perhaps it's because we've encountered some pretty unkind strangers in the past, but I've been moved to tears by how friendly and helpful people have been. From neighbours asking if Slinky is back and making suggestions about where to put up posters to strangers calling at one in the morning (actually that scared me pretty bad, but the person phoning was so sure he had just seen Slinky that it was easy to forgive him), I'm eternally grateful to one and all. I've appreciated all the thoughtful and sympathetic shelter and vet staff I've interacted with over the past several weeks, I even made a new friend at the local paper when I called to place an ad.

Friends have also shared some pretty insane (and somewhat comforting) cat-came-back stories... returning after weeks, months, even over a year! Slinky, please don't take that long, I don't know if I could bear worrying about you all winter. As it is, every time it storms at night (and it has a lot, lately) I cringe and hope so desperately that you have found yourself a kind, temporary family that is feeding you and letting you indoors at night. I glance out the windows all day, and every black shadow I see makes me stare intently - until I realize it's a squirrel. Every night I flick on the backyard lights in case you show up at the door, and I hesitate to close the bedroom windows when I go to bed in case I won't hear you meowing to be let in. Slinky come home. I'm not giving up.

Keep your eyes peeled for a sweet little black cat who loves to trill-talk and snuggle up with her family every night - we miss her so, so much, and we're still holding onto the hope that she'll come home. Thank-you so much for all the help, advice, anecdotal stories, shared experiences and support. It's helped a lot.

Slinky Come Home

I'd been happily preparing to write a post about our new place and our new neighbourhood - there is so much to share, and we're loving it all so much! But I've been putting it off due to a furry little friend that has been painfully absent from our daily lives. Slinky the cat has up and gone on an adventure - or at least, that's what we're hoping. We've lived here for about a month, she's settled in really well and she's been gone overnight before, so we're pretty sure it's not a case of cat-freaked-out-from-new-surroundings, and more a case of exploratory enthusiasm... but it's been six days. She's never not come home for breakfast.

It's been many breakfasts. And dinners.

I'm worried that she followed a few too many field mice and has found herself somewhere too far from home - there are little wooded areas all over the place and she could be camped out in any one of them. Thankfully Hudson is peppered with little fresh water streams so she won't have hydration issues; there are houses/shelter within close reach, and hopefully food won't be too hard to come by, either.

We've been out calling up and down our winding streets several times a day, every day - we've told neighbours, emailed shelters, phoned vets... my printer is noisily printing up a fresh batch of posters as we speak and we're off to do some more blitzing. I am anxiously channeling the hopeful and perseverant spirit of Dan and John Spencer, who were happily reunited after almost 2 months. I've been reassured by friends who have some pretty crazy cat disappearance stories and I'm hoping that Slinky will follow her stomach and low-snuggle-quota all the way back home again... but every day a cloud settles deeper over this house. We're all feeling it.

Slinky, it's so hard to go to bed without you trying to squish up against me and send me to sleep with your purrs, and it's so sad to wake up without you staring me in the face, patiently waiting for breakfast. I miss your trill-hellos every time you walk into a room and your daily visits to my lap as I work. Please come home, we miss you so much.

All Settled In

A Panda mention (because it's always all about Panda around here). Our sweet shelter rescue doggie is doing great! She has integrated fully and completely into our lives - she leaves the cats alone, although not for lack of trying to be friends. She likes to snuggle, chase her ball, wrestle on the carpet, and play with other (nice) doggies. She is a huge, fluffy, soft, whiskered ball of friendliness and love. Awwww.

Panda

A little over two weeks ago, I packed an eat-in-the-car picnic, bundled into the car with Christian, picked up my dad, and headed to the snowy, beautiful Eastern Townships. We were on a mission to meet a very special someone. Someone very furry. And hopefully, very friendly.

My friend Caroline had tipped me off. Caroline is an amazing woman who actively supports animal shelters and saves doggie lives on a regular basis. Last Christmas, due to the holidays, thirteen dogs were going to be put down at a high-kill pound just outside of Montreal. Thanks to her and Paws for Life Rescue, all the dogs were relocated to other shelters. Over her holidays, she drove an hour and a half in a snowstorm to personally deliver three big dogs to a shelter in the country that had room for them. One of them was a dog named Lupa. Caroline told me about her - sweet, friendly, gentle. Oh, and adorable. Did I mention she was adorable? Caroline sent me a few pictures and my heart melted. We had to meet her.

We had lost our sweet dog Chelsea to cancer a year and a half ago. She got ill very quickly and it was over before we even knew it was happening. We and our families were gutted. I still can't look at her picture without welling up a bit - but part of owning a pet is accepting that you will outlive them: loving them to bits, being loved in return, making each others' lives better, and then saying goodbye. I had been slowly warming to the idea of becoming friends with another doggie. Our two cats would be furious, of course, but...

So there we were, taking in the charming scenery of the Eastern Townships on a crisp, sunny, snowy February afternoon, nibbling on cheddar and cornichons and wondering how the day would end. Would we be returning home with a fourth family member in the car? The GPS sent us on a dirt road shortcut, and as we wound past old barns and beautiful farmhouses. I thanked goodness for all-wheel drive and thought of Lupa the dog.

When we arrived at the Frontier Animal Society we were met by the wonderful Joyce Dekker, who runs the place; she brought us in to meet Lupa. A big, fluffy, smiling Lupa. She was bigger than we expected, as overstuffed as your favourite teddy-bear. We bent down to say hello and she welcomed us with kisses. We took her for a walk in the woods and she didn't leave our side. She ran up to our car and put her paws up to the window. It was a done deal.

Joyce bent down to say goodbye. She took Lupa’s face between her hands, looked into her eyes and affectionately said: “don’t screw this up”. We all laughed.

The first few nights were a little bumpy; Slinky and Blue were woefully unimpressed. We set up a doggie pen in the hallway to let the cats have "recess" and enjoy moments to themselves, while also permitting Lupa to have her own quiet time with her food, toys and blanket. She has been nothing but a sweetie - although she has a hard time listening when she's distracted, she wants to be good and tries hard to leave the cats alone. She's quite confused as to why they don't like her, because everyone else seems to love her so much. She's a snow dog through and through, and the past couple of weeks have been one winter frolic after another. Last week we made it official: we got her a city license and named her Panda (Caroline's husband's suggestion, which we loved).

It's painful to imagine someone dumping her just a few days before Christmas, knowing full well the fate she would face. It's even worse to know that this happens all the time, to all kinds of animals. Thank-you Caroline and thank-you Joyce, for working tirelessly to save animals that otherwise wouldn't stand a chance. The Frontier Animal Society is a no-kill shelter and is always looking for clean old blankets and towels, animal treats, and any number of other donations. This lovely video about them really just says it all. Aroooo! :)