Missing

Our cat, Rufus, is missing.

He has been gone since Thursday, which is not long, really, for a cat, but it is long for him and we are feeling the stress.

I have a vague ache in my head and slightly unsettled feeling in my stomach while going about my daily routine.  But then when I think of him - because I walk into our bedroom expecting to see him on the bed, or turn the corner to the back yard and am surprised that he is not on the deck, or just thinking about him for no reason - then my head feels like it is going to explode and I am sure I am going to vomit.  I don't feel like cooking and have mostly been eating sugary carbs.  Every interaction I have with my kids and husband takes all of my energy.  My sleep patterns are out of whack.  Etc.

And this is a cat.

Now pet owners understand that a pet really is a member of the family.  The Music Man and I have had cats before, but always in a more temporary situation.  But Rufus was meant to be a long term pet, so we really do feel like he is a member of the family.

But he is still just a cat.

This experience has made me think if this is how I feel when my cat is missing for three days, how do parents of missing children even function at all.  I have been trying to channel some of my energy into praying for parents out there who have missing children, especially as I walk our neighbourhood at night looking and calling for Rufus.  I can never really know what they are going through, but maybe I have the tiniest inkling of what it might possibly be like. 

We are trying to keep our spirits up.  We are telling the kids that maybe he's on a big adventure.  We remind ourselves of stories of cats returning home days, weeks, months or even years later.  

But it is hard.  And we are sad.
Come home, Rufus.