When your cat goes missing, you panic. You imagine catnappers, vivisectionists. You have visions of the hole he is trapped in, the wounds that are keeping him from crawling home.
Because I was so hopeless, friends rallied quickly. They flyered the neighborhood and knocked on doors. Into every mailbox went the plaintive entreaty LOST CAT, PLEASE CALL, OWNER’S HEART IS BROKEN! Tibby’s large, wet extraterrestrial eyes stared from telephone poles and lampposts and trees. Ten days passed. Nothing.