Flight of the Zoe

Pets are funny creatures. One minute you wish someone else would come along and take over the role of poop scooper and the next minute you think of your pet as one of your children. Our small furry child gave us one heck of a scare Thanksgiving night, and if we could ground her, we would.

As the members of Samantha's family left our home Thursday night we began the slow and miserable process of cleaning up. Zoe had performed admirably that night and I knew that like us, she was looking forward to a long nap on the bed. Our two year old niece and nephew had given her a rigorous workout as they chased "Meow Meow" up and down the stairs all night in an attempt to pet her soft fur and grab at her hypnotically moving tail. I can't blame them, I spend most of my free time engaged in similar pursuits. Zoe had behaved like a champ and as we picked up I looked for her so that she could be rewarded with a double helping of treats. But as I looked in the usual spots,



Zoe was nowhere to be found. I assumed she had retreated under a bed to get away from the evening's hustle and bustle but she wasn't there either. Samantha and I began to get nervous. Zoe's previous owners had not only had her front paws declawed, but her hind paws as well. If she had somehow gotten outside, she would be defenseless. Finally, we realized our worst fears. She was not in the house! A door must have been left open! Knowing that untold perils awaited our sweet kitty outdoors, I responded with a full-blown panic attack.

Samantha headed out the front door and I turned to my most trusted advisors. Mojobrand Search and Rescue was assembled as Sox, Chico, and Mojo were sent out to help us track down Zoe. I left them and went out back, armed with a flashlight and a bag of treats. No Zoe in the backyard! Samantha came back in and reported that Zoe was not out front either! Leaving the bag of treats, I rushed out front and ran down the street towards the sounds of barking dogs. House by house I looked under cars and in bushes, hoping to see Zoe's bright green eyes reflect the light from my flashlight. As I rounded the cul-de-sac I knew that if Zoe wasn't under the cars of the next two houses, she was probably gone. I looked under a red Jeep Cherokee and saw what looked like a trash bag. But it wasn't a trash bag! It was a fur bag!

Zoe was crouched underneath and was clearly not herself. She hissed and growled and batted at me with her clawless paw as I tried to coax her out. I radioed Mojobrand S&R but all I got was static. Where could they be? I yelled for Samantha to come out of the house and bring the treats. Zoe darted underneath the next car as Samantha rushed up with the bait. I sprinkled out one treat to earn her trust. She cautiously approached and then wolfed down the treat. I dumped out several more in an inviting trail that ended in my lap. She sniffed a few but seemed hesitant. Convinced she would not make it to my lap, I pounced! In a whirl of fur and screeches Zoe was safe in my arms! Hooray!

We took Zoe back inside and she headed off to rest from her trying ordeal. As Sam and I walked in we found out what had happened to the Mojobrand team. Search and Rescue my butt.



In honor of Zoe's return to our house, here is a list of names I call Zoe when I'm not calling her Zoe (In alphabetical order):
Boo
Boo Berry
Cat
Fluff
Fluffapotamus
Fluffy
Fluffy Girl
Friendly Cat
Frisky Pants
Kitty
Kitty Boo
Kitty Cat
Kitty Girl
Meow
Meow Cat
Purrin' Girl
Soft Kitty
Special Girl
Zoe Zo Zo Zo
Zo Zo