The catnapping

I was planning to blog about my vacation first thing this morning, but Duncan insisted on monopolizing my hands all morning. He just now decided he could handle a few minutes alone in his basket while I blog.

I got home last night and headed over to Elgin Street to collect Duncan. I knocked on the Dwarf’s door several times, but there was no answer.

The Dwarf had said he might be at a nearby restaurant, so I went over there but found it closed (brightly lit neon OPEN sign notwithstanding).

So I went back to the Dwarf’s house and knocked again. Still no answer. I knocked louder. Nothing. I hammered on the door with both fists. Silence.

Several possibilities occurred to me.

1) The Dwarf was unexpectedly called away on urgent dwarf business.
2) The Dwarf was home but couldn’t hear me beating down his door because he had been struck by some dwarf-deafening disease.
3) The Dwarf was home but pretending to be out because he could not bear to part with Duncan.

I pondered my options.

1) Wait.
2) Find a pay phone and two quarters.
3) Break in.

While I stood there pondering my options, I noticed two tiny magnetic poetry words on the Dwarf’s door.

Come
In

Was he talking to me? Were those words there all the time, or only when he wanted people to come in? I tentatively tried the door handle, and the door swung open. A light sculpture blinked warmly in the entryway, but other than that, the Dwarf cave was dark.

I called softly, “Hello? Is anybody home?”

Silence.

I stepped inside.

“Hello?” I called, louder.

Nothing.

“Duncan?” I called.

Nothing.

This went on for awhile, with me escalating the calls into the darkness until this point:

“DUNCAN!!!!!” I roared at the top of my lungs.

And then I heard it: the unmistakable THUMP THUMP THUMP of Duncan running down the stairs. (Duncan has a certain elephantine quality to his stair-descending.)

He had to run down a couple of flights of stairs. Our eyes met when he was halfway down the last flight. He meowed, I dropped to my knees, he leapt upon me, and we had a heartwarming reunion which included much hugging and face-rubbing and floor-rolling and purring and toe-kissing.

After we put our clothes back on, I prowled around the Dwarf Cave for a few minutes, locating and gathering Duncan’s essentials. Kitty litter box, fresh litter, food…I figured the grooming supplies could wait. I left a thank you bag for the Dwarf on his stairs.

I popped Duncan into his Humane Society carrying case, slid the litter box into a green garbage bag, and used the Dwarf’s phone to call a cab (“one that takes cats,” I specified to the dispatcher. “How many cats?” he asked.).

Then I took everything, including Duncan, outside, and sat on the steps to wait for the cab.

Several minutes later the front door opened, and there was the Dwarf! He’d been in the house all along, watching TV upstairs while I roamed around downstairs like a common catnapper. When he went downstairs to get a ginger beer he noticed the bag on the stairs, and realized someone had come in and made off with his cat. Ha!

(I am glad he didn’t trip on the bag on the stairs – I had placed it right in the middle of a step, thinking he couldn’t miss it when he was about to go UP the stairs.)

Anyway. I got Duncan home and we went to bed. He seemed a bit unsettled at first, and left the bed a few times during the night to do other things. Maybe he was sending email to the Dwarf, I don’t know.

But this morning we stayed in bed an extra couple of hours and cuddled and filled each other in about our vacations. I told him about beaches and birds and bowls of fruit and Lola the Pug and food trees and shopping and unshopping and Dibbly Dips. He told me about exchanging recipes with a coyote, partying with an orange nymph, and being charmed by Aggie. He also told me that the Dwarf had given him a hot stone massage every evening, and suggested I might want to do the same.

I love his manicure – it feels like soft pussycat paws when he kneads me, instead of razor-sharp lion claws. And while we were cuddling in bed this morning, I discovered that the Dwarf had managed to untangle the tangly bits under his chin. He was definitely a better-groomed pussycat after his vacation at the Dwarf’s Spa than before.

The Dwarf could go into business operating a combination kitty kennel/spa/blogging enterprise. It’s lovely being able to check in every day while you’re away and see pictures of your cat looking happy.

I’ll post some vacation pix later. Right now Duncan says we have to go back to bed for awhile.

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