When my cat Harry took off last year, I was quite concerned.  He’s at least ten years old.  No one really knows but following a time line of what I know about him, ten years is the best I can do.

Harry and his brother Louis had been declawed and neutered when they were kittens.  I find it hard to believe a kind old lady who took in two kittens would declaw them  Maybe she had expensive furniture; maybe she didn’t know any better.  But the fact that Harry had no claws was frightening to me after he ran off.  Not knowing where he was or how he was surviving was scary.  In fact, after the first week, I was pretty sure he hadn’t or wouldn’t survive.

Several of my friends are cat lovers.  And the people who entrusted Harry and Louis to me were also concerned.  To the point that one was willing to come to Vancouver to help me ‘beat the bushes’.  I thought if I could write a little story and make it upbeat that everyone would feel better about Harry’s demise.  However, I wasn’t sure how to end the story.  And then one day, Harry reappeared!  Not a scratch on him.  His beautiful long and fluffy fur was as beautiful as ever…though his fluffy tail was full of debris.

Then it seemed logical to write a story about how Harry survived.  He ‘talks’ to several cats in the neighborhood through the front door – the storm door has a screened area that I leave open so the cats can enjoy the fresh air while they are standing at the door ‘talking’.  And that’s what I did – I wrote a story about how Harry got out and how he got lost and how all his friends helped him get home.  It seemed a logical thing to do at the time.

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