G.B. is our cat. He snuck out the door last night at about 11pm as I was letting the dogs back in from their pre-bed pee. And he bolted. I knew he would not come back for hours and hours and I after making a few attempts to lure him back to the house with the sound of tapping a spoon on his beloved cat food bowl, I knew that there was nothing I could do and went to bed with the window cracked so if he came back and meowed, maybe we would hear him.

It’s a scary place for cats around here at night. He is allowed to go out during the day time, but we always feed him at 5 and he does not go back outdoors after that. Our back yard leads into the mountains and who knows what cat-eating critters laying in wait. We know there are coyotes and foxes and occasional bears. Also Fisher Cats (originally brought into Vermont to help wth the porcupine problem) are notorious cat killers.

But luckily for all of us, Rich woke up just before 7am to the sound of G.B. saying “yo! I’m home. It’s f’in cold out here. I’m covered with snow and I want my damned breakfast!” or maybe it was just “meow meow, let me in pleeeeeeeeeeze!”. After he finished his breakfast, he ran up stairs to snuggle under the covers for a while and warm back up.

We will have to be that much more diligent now that he has had the taste of an exciting night out. I sure wonder what he did for those 8 hours.

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