Wow, Click gave me a terrible scare this morning.

It's one of those things where you wake up and immediately something's wrong. In winter, Click always sleeps with me. She doesn't spend the whole night there, because she's a nocturnal hunter. But in the morning she's always there. If she isn't, it's cause for alarm.

This morning she wasn't. I got up and looked all around for her. I was sure I'd seen her last night before I turned in, but maybe I misremembered that and she got stuck somewhere else. I'd been down at the Meadow House in the evening: I looked there, no Click. I looked in the barn, the powerhouse, the Jeep. No Click.

That's not good. Night is the time of most danger, and if she was gone there wasn't one single earthly thing I could do about it except feel bad. I gave up, and wondered how I'd phrase the email in which I told Landlady another of her animals was missing and presumed dead.

I put the boys in Gitmo and gave them their treats, preparing to go fiddle with geiger counter-related activities. I trudged back to the Interim Lair, my ears perked for the sound of a certain cat's squeaky little meow. Several times this morning I thought I'd heard it, but it was always my plastic foot squeaking. But this time I heard it standing still in the yard. I looked around and she came trotting toward me from the direction of the barn. I couldn't find any wounds, but she seems agitated and unhappy.

I suspect she had a close call too far from the lair and spent some hours hiding from an attacker that missed her. I'm just glad she's alive. She's very smart, unlike my departed tomcat Butch, and what doesn't kill her will very likely make her stronger. Right now, before going to work, I'm gonna open a can of special cat food for her because I'm absurdly glad she's alive.