A most terrible thing has happened.
My beloved cat, Ruby, ran away.
It all happened so fast.
Friday evening, the hubby and I were driving to Portland for the weekend
(as we do almost every weekend).
We had Ruby in her crate with us (as she always is).
She is not a lover of car rides, and therefore had an accident in her crate.
So we took the next exit, pulled off into a gravel lot, and proceeded to change the towels she was laying on
(again, a very typical scenario).
But just as we were done, with Ruby back in her crate and me closing the lid,
something happened.
She got startled and bolted upright.
Before I knew what was happening, she had darted under the car,
across two lanes of traffic
and into an overgrown, thorny ravine.
We searched and called for her for two hours.
With no luck.
Just a bunch of scratches from blackberry bushes.
And lots of crying.
And broken hearts.
I am devastated.
We went back the next day and posted twenty-five fliers in the area.
We knocked on doors.
We passed out another twenty-five fliers to mailboxes.
We went to the humane society.
We left a flier at the post office.
We made two ads on craigslist.
And now all I can do is wait.
And hope.
And pray.
Ruby is my baby. She is the first pet I've ever owned.
She's only 3 years old, and I've had her for 2 of those years.
And boy, is she spoiled.
She gets canned food a lot.
She gets treats.
She has a million cat toys.
She sleeps on my bed every night
and curls up on the couch with me to watch tv or take a cat nap.
She's extremely lazy.
She's an indoor-only cat.
And that worries me the most.
She doesn't hunt.
She doesn't know what the outside world is like.
She's never had to worry about cars.
And now she has to survive in the wild.
In a city 35 miles from home.
A 45-minute drive from here.
My heart is aching.
