This morning, Arthur gave me quite a scare. I had my coat on and was about to leave for work, but before I leave each morning I look at the boys and what they're doing and I say good bye to them. Well, I found Beowulf, because as soon as I came out of the bedroom, he started following me around and meowing, but I could not find Arthur anywhere.
I looked everywhere and I mean everywhere. I checked the kitchen and all areas of the livingroom. I checked the litterbox. I checked under and on every table and chair. I checked behind the desks. Then I started looking into places where the cats should never be able to go. I checked the bathroom (which we leave closed at all times to keep them out) and the bedroom (same thing). I even checked the closets.
Finally, I started to panic. I went out into the hallway outside our apartment and walked around calling for Arthur. I thought maybe he had somehow gotten out of the apartment. But he wasn't there. On the theory that his brother would find him, I carried Beowulf around the apartment and let him meow for Arthur. No luck.
I listened carefully, straining to hear the sound of Arthur's collar. No luck.
I called Liz at work. "Did you check the closets," she asked. "Yes," I said. "Did you check the litterbox, behind the desks, under the chairs, under the air conditioner, behind the steroe?" Yes, yes, yes.
Where was Arthur? Had he crawled somewhere, gotten hurt and died. A friend of mine once came home to find his cat laying dead in the mechanism of a reclining chair and I always think about that whenever I can't find the boys. We don't have a reclining chair, but you never know what they could get into.
The one place I checked but didn't believe he could get under was the sofa. The reason I didn't believe it is that we have fortified the sofa so many times to prevent them from getting under. We have thick books stuffed into every opening and the boys have thus far been unable, despite their trying, to get in. Well, just as I was about to lose it, I noticed a little paw sticking out from under the sofa. Somehow, he had pushed some of the books in and squeezed himself in. When Beowulf saw the paw, Arthur crawled out to play with his brother.
Whew! Now, how do we really keep them from getting under there?