Last night Hamilton did not come home. We worried and fretted and promised to go look for him as soon as possible the next day. So after church I began combing the neighborhood. Our neighbor to the west had not seen him.
I walked up the alley, meeting and talking to the neighbor two houses to the east. This twenty-something guy had what looked like a wild animal horn through his earlobe but he expressed concern over our kitten. Alas, he had not seen Hammy either.
By this time I felt a little desperate. We did live on a busy street. Had Hammy...? I kept my eyes on the curb just in case...
I knocked at the M's door. Their back door looked out on the alley across from our garage. After two knocks, Mr. M came to the door and reflected that yes, he had in fact seen our little Siamese playing with their orange tabby kitten all day Saturday. He gave me permission to search his back yard playhouse.
While I was poking round in his back yard, I distinctly heard a drawn-out Siamese yowl. It was faint but recognizable. Had I not heard that same demanding cry every morning at feeding time? I called more urgently and heard the yowl again, this time from a high fence to my left. I followed the sound, feeling rather like I was playing Hot and Cold. I kept calling and the kitten continued to cry piteously. At last I found a gate to the high fence surrounding the blue house on the corner. Opening it released a very thankful gray Siamese. I have no idea how he managed to climb into that yard, but once there he was quite trapped.
Triumphantly I carried him home to my worried husband. Hammy, true to form, made a beeline for his food dish then insisted on a good long massage. At last he fell asleep on my lap, a grateful cat for his freedom from an undeserved incarceration.