Psychics, burritos.

If you missed it last time: I started a second blog, it's about food, and it's freshly updated! Check it out! This week it's about burritos and coffee.

When we decided to move across town one of my main concerns (obviously) was for the cats and their outdoor habits. In California Boy was notorious for getting himself stuck up trees and even M.I.A for an entire week. When we first got to North Carolina he behaved himself fairly well, only getting stuck up a couple trees and easily located. Our new neighborhood is packed in with houses, trees, dogs and fences. I had visions of Boy following squirrels up the ancient oak trees across the street, jumping head-first into a yard full of loud, viscious, tiny dogs, weaseling his way into everybody's garages. To my surprise, none of these things have happened. He prefers to climb one particular tree, conveniently located just outside the front door from which he can jump to the roof of the house. He's never even been in a fight!

Sunday while we were burrito-ing up a storm Boy came in, snacked a little, and headed back out. Then he didn't come back. We did a lot of walking, a lot of whistling, a lot of calling and came up empty every time. The weird part about this little disappearing act is that we couldn't hear him. Usually he gets himself up a tree, thinks it's cool for a while, then freaks out when he can't immediately figure out how to get down and starts bellowing. By Monday morning he still wasn't home and we still had no clue where he was. We pawed through some neighbor-yards and scouted things out from the roof. Finally we did what any pet owner would do: we called a pet psychic. AKA: an animal communicator.

She asked me his name, what type of cat he was. She asked if we lived in a place with lots of houses but also lots of trees, maybe some woods. She said he was about three years old. She told me he could see a deck post, and some tall grass - a field? unmowed lawn? It looked like there was a basement entrance to something, under the deck. He went there often, it's where he likes to hunt. She didn't see any impact, any dogs, any harm. There might be a sliding glass door.

This description was perfect for a house two doors over from us. George and I walked over, knocked, waited. The fellow took a while answering the door, we thought maybe no one was home, we were going to snoop in the backyard. When he did answer I said, "Uhm...we're missing a cat..." and he interrupted me - "Oh, yeah, he's right here."

Apparently Boy had jumped through an open windown, hung out, and curled up on the bed while he was asleep.

CRAZY!

I called the lady back, I told her she was dead-on, that it was amazing, that I was so grateful, what did I owe her? I'd make her cookies - anything. She said people don't usually call her back and never asked for any money.