While E, Q, and I were away, my parents had our two cats stay with them and their cat Mardi, so named because he was a Katrina rescue cat they met on a Tuesday. He is also pretty fat. And ornery, to say the least. My parents’ vet refused to see him anymore, saying he is the meanest cat they ever treated. But really he’s a big ol’ teddy bear to his loved ones.
Ordinarily, he gets along well with my cats. But this time they must have over stayed their welcome. My mom told me that Frodo (my oldest cat) and Mardi started fighting and drawing blood from each other. The first time they fought, my mom told me that Sammy (my younger cat) got spooked and ran. She’s very skittish. She’s also a hide and seek champion. She ran into my parents’ basement, and they couldn’t find her afterwards. After a while, my mother got nervous and started wondering if maybe Sammy had gotten outside. She’s also incredibly fast and sneaky. Though my mom was certain she hadn’t seen Sammy run out when she opened the door, she thought maybe Sammy escaped out of the house via the dryer vent or a small gap from a slightly open window. No, Sammy’s not that small. My mom’s just that paranoid.
Logically, she decided to look around the neighborhood for wandering cats. And because of observational bias, she found them. Lots of dead cats on the side of the road. One of which looked like Sammy.
So, in the rain, she picked up Sammy’s squashed doppelganger to bury in the backyard. Her face streaked with tears and rain, she said a few words in Sammy’s memory and decided not to tell me the bad news until I came home from Israel.
As she walked in the door, she saw my dad holding a cat. “Look who I found!”
Sammy had been found after her failed attempt to fake her own death.