The cat in the cupboard

I woke up this morning and could not find Ursula. My beautiful cat hadn’t been well, and now she was hiding in a cupboard or some other secret place. Ursula, Ursula, where art thou? She hadn’t knocked on my door politely at 5 am or rudely at 6:15am, as is her wont. She didn’t even come when I loudly opened the fridge door, clicked her plate and put out her food, sending me into a lather of anxiety. Because though unwell, she has been eating with her usual enthusiasm.

First I checked her favourite places. Inside her bed-in-a-box, on top of her bed-in-a-box. On my new rocking chair, on my very old creaking crackling rocking chair that I can’t bear to dump. In the cupboard under the stairs with all my coats, boots, bags, buckets, and recycling.

Baffled, I checked bedrooms, bathrooms, study. Outside on the walkway, outside on the deck. Inside wardrobes and kitchen cupboards. Behind curtains.

Then I started again. Cleared out the remotest corners of the under-stair cupboard, vacuumed in there, and reduced and rationalised the contents. Had that been her plan all along?

Half an hour later she turned up bright as a button — but from where? I’m none the wiser. Wednesday we will see the vet, but for now she seems very pleased with herself. Maybe she just wanted to sleep in.

Just kidding. I know she is not well, and sick cats like to hide in cupboards and other small warm safe and secret places.

PS Beyond a cat in a cupboard

Some bloggers pause when they run out of ideas. Some when real life is belting along almost too fast. I’ve just met a deadline so shortly I’ll blurt out a few things instead of mulling them over first. Meantime you are up to date with my cat’s experimental absence in a cupboard—? a jug? a bed? a curtain? Who knows. Maybe she spotted that I suddenly have time for her and exploited what was to be a “free” morning.