Lost Cat

As if my latest display of spider killing was not embarrassing enough, we one-upped ourselves in the “How American Can We Be?” category two days after that incident. Elizabeth had found a kitten in one of the villages under our health district that she wanted to adopt. We spoke to the owner and he was ready to give it to her on the spot, but we were unprepared to take it home, so we asked him to drop it off at the house on the upcoming market day. Bright and early on Thursday, he showed up as promised, with a cat in a bag. The poor thing was clearly slightly traumatized from its trip in the bag and immediately ran for cover under the couch. We tried coaxing it out for a while, but eventually decided food would be the only thing to do the job. We went up to the market and got some food and a can of sardines for the cute little kitten. We poured the sardines into a bowl and then went out to find the cat. It wasn’t under the couch. We realized the door was open just a crack. We had been the proud owners of a cat for about two hours. We checked all over the house, looking under the bed, behind the bookshelf—everywhere—but came up empty. The cat had clearly escaped. We began to inform all of our neighbors. “We lost our cat, it ran out of the house,” we told them. To which they gave us blank stares, as if to say, “Yes, cats belong outside.” But they would kindly respond, “Oh, so sorry.” Still clearly thinking, “Crazy Americans, why would you even want a cat in your house?” Nevertheless, we continued to tell our friends that it was just a baby, we had just gotten it, it wouldn’t know to come back to this house, so if they saw it please return it or tell us. They were all very supportive and told us if they saw it, they would return it. We even got all the kids to go out and look around. The neighborhood was on high alert. Then, that evening, we heard meowing. We ran outside, looking all around the compound. Nothing. We asked our neighbor again, “Did you see that cat? Can you hear it too?” She responded, “Surely, it’s still in the house, it’s just hiding.” We told her no, we had really looked everywhere. But it really did sound like the meowing was inside… We did another check of the house, and there was the cat, under the bed. We had lost a cat that had never been lost, and “found” it again. It was not our proudest moment, but we were once again the proud owners of a cat. Now, when any of the multiple neighbors we informed ask if we found the cat, we just say yes and never mention that it was never lost in the first place.