I got a frantic phone call from Ty after work the other day.
"Babe? Bubba's not in the house. I've looked everywhere...he's not inside."
My heart dropped.
This is NOT an outdoor cat.
And if he's not in the house, that means he's been out there ALL DAY.
I dropped everything I was doing and flew home.
On my drive I was thinking of all the possible bad things that could happen to him.
This cat is my baby!
My only hope was that he hadn't gone far.
He's normally pretty skittish if we bring him outside on the deck, so I thought maybe he might still be close.
I was afraid that if he HAD gone far, we'd never see him again.
So I pulled into the driveway, jumped out of the car, and ran around the outside of the house calling for him. Under our deck in the back yard is my uncle's old four wheeler, sitting under a cover. I called for Bubba again and heard him meow.
Thank goodness! He was under the four wheeler! While I was pulling the cover up, he was hissing and growling, and I honestly thought I was going to get attacked. But I stuck my hand in, and in a few seconds, he was rubbing his head on my hand. I reached in and grabbed him, hugged his guts out, and took him inside to call Ty, who was canvassing the neighborhood.
We were so grateful he was ok.
And he was DEFINITELY ok. After about 10 minutes at the water bowl, he lounged around the rest of the night as if the whole thing had never happened.
No big deal.
I decided to test him later, by opening the back door.
I figured he wouldn't go within a mile of that door ever again.
He walked right outside.
Again, no big deal.
We don't know for sure when he slipped out. It was either in the morning before Ty left for work, or the night before, when we went to bed. Either way, he was outside for more than 10 hours.
I now watch him like a hawk.