Anyway, we're mid nerd-out when I get a call. "Um, are you missing a cat?" I look around the apartment, there's my cat, right there. So no, I'm not missing a cat. But the other one is nowhere to be seen.
"Umm, no, not really MISSING a cat, why did you find one?"
"Yeah, this cat. Named Dummy? She just wandered into my house, and I thought maybe she was a stray, because she started drinking my milk. But I saw she had a tag..."
"Oh my god. Just kick her out. Do you live on Breeze?"
"We live right down the street. Hi neighbor! That cat is spoiled rotten, she doesn't need to fed again!"
Compare and contrast that (and by the way, Dummy wandered in a little while later, apparently completely unaffected and also starving) with my lovely cat. This morning, pyr8queen got up a little before me. I was still grumpily blinking and thinking about getting up, mostly asleep - when I found my beloved cat, poking my face. Since we built the loft, she's been groundbound and no longer able to curl up on the foot of the bed the way she has her entire life. Our evening routine of me reading and her trying to head butt the book so I paid attention to her had been disrupted entirely. And no longer could she sit on my head to wake me up and feed her. But this morning pyr8queen hefted her up onto the loft and let her crawl around.
In the past when put up there she's sort of panicked and not liked it very much - but this time other than creeping out on her belly to the very edge of the bed and peeking worriedly over the side, she seemed fairly phlegmatic. And I realized how much I missed something as simple as having my cat on hand while I slept.
My cat. Who never commits home invasions or milk-burglaries.