Coca Cola has not had an adventure in a while. I suppose he felt it was about time. If you'll recall, he did this. And this. Oh. . . and this. And once, giant old Pepper did this.
This morning, I awoke to Coca Cola's ridiculously loud Siamese meow at around 5:30 am. This is not unusual. He knows what my alarm sounds like and will often start bugging me for breakfast the moment he hears it.
I called down the stairs at him. Something along the lines of "You're clearly not starving. Shut up, tubby!"
Usually when I comment on his pudge and roll back over, he switches over to more irritating tactics like jumping up on the bed and staring at me from close range or knocking things off dressers. Today he just yelled louder.
"That's an annoying and effective new response." I thought.
It wasn't long before Clark joined in like he usually does. Clark's meow is actually pretty adorable. It's just a squeak, really. But Coke's meow rattles the rafters. If you've never heard a Siamese cat trying to get someone's attention, I don't recommend trying it out at 5:30 in the morning.
I thought it a little odd that Clark wasn't in the hallway pouncing on my feet when I left the bedroom, but I was focused on one goal: get Coke the shut the stink up. He was going to wake the neighbors with that banshee-like wailing. He couldn't possibly be so hungry as to make such a ridiculous racket.
As I passed through the living room on my way to the cat food, I spotted him sitting in his favorite window. It was from this perch that he was hollering at me.
"What is your probl. . . . "
He was on the wrong side of the window.
Somehow not long before we went to bed (because I remember seeing him not long before then), he apparently snuck out a door. He probably followed the dog out for her bedtime piddle. Since no one noticed, he spent the night outside. I have no idea what he did out there or if he really went much past the front porch. At least he found his way home this time. You would have thought he'd been trapped on the outside for days from the relief on his furry little face when he saw me.
I opened the door to let him in and he leaped into my arms for joy. Note that this is a 14lb cat. . . it's really more unbalancing than adorable when he leaps into your arms. I gave him the appropriate scolding and attention and realized that Clark still wasn't under my feet.
"Coke," I asked, "did Clark follow you out too?"
"Well, then where is he?"
Now that the hellish yowling had stopped and I was paying attention to it, I heard that the little squeaky kitten cries were not a normal breakfast call. Fortunately, they were from inside the house.
Together, Coke and I followed Clark's voice until we discovered where he'd been locked away all night: in the little kids' bedroom. Usually the dog spends the night in there (lest she get into all sorts of trouble downstairs in the middle of the night), but somehow she'd gotten out and the cat had gotten in. The net result was Clark got stuck in there all night and Sparkle was loose eating trash and empty cat food cans out of the recycling all night. I hadn't noticed the cans all over the floor because I had been too busy looking for cats.
While Clark's adventure was a bit less exciting than some of the traditional cat adventures in our household, he did manage to time it for maximum irritation. He's learning.
Pass the coffee.
In case you're wondering, Clark's still doing ok. He's been acting relatively normal ("normal" is a bit of a misnomer for him) and hasn't had another bout of the mystery illness since March.