WHEN PEBBLES RAN AWAY
Pebbles was the cat I had before the one I have now. One time she escaped from her carrier while I was taking her to the vet’s for her annual injections.
She was a rescue cat. She was eight years of age when I adopted her and I had her till she was 16 when she passed away. Her dash away occurred when I’d had her for three years (in 2014).
At that time preparatory work was going on further down the road where I live for the building of two substantially sized housing estates on greenfield sites. Before the builders could erect the houses infrastructure work had to be done so that utilities could ultimately be connected to those houses (including the laying of pipework). The road was closed adjacent to where the developments were planned. This resulted in the bus that then went past my house being diverted necessitating a walk to a bus stop on another road. The stop was about 10 or 15 minutes away from where I lived depending on how fast I was walking on a particular day.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a cat who liked being put in a cat carrier and Pebbles was no exception. She was grumbling from the minute I put her in the carrier, all the while that I was walking with her and then after I set the carrier down while I waited at the stop for the bus to come.
I was looking into the distance to see if I could see the bus when I heard a car horn sound. The car driver (at least as well as he could while driving) pointed at something. I looked down. My heart sank. Pebbles had sprung the door of the carrier and was nowhere to be seen. I looked in the gardens of houses close to the bus stop and in the grounds of a charity and those of some nearby flats. Most of the people I asked said they hadn’t seen her though one person said she’d seen some movement in the grounds of the flats but she couldn’t be sure if it was a cat.
I rang the vet’s to say I wouldn’t be bringing her that day. Then I went calling “Puss, puss, puss” along both sides of the road. I even asked some people who were camping in the grounds of the town hospital which was nearby. They were protesting against some of the services at the local hospital being reduced. I had no luck finding my cat though.
Eventually I went home. I printed some flyers to put through peoples’ letter boxes — which I did and also stuck one on one of the windows of the bus shelter. To be honest that idea was suggested by a lady at one of the local animal charities. I rang the local charities and vets just in case anyone had handed her in. Pebbles was microchipped (as is her successor).
At that time I used to do typing from home to boost my budget. I devoted some time during the day that task — it helped me to keep busy though I still felt physically sick. I alternated between distracting myself with chores at home and going to the place I’d last seen Pebbles to try to find her.
I decided to have one last attempt very late in the evening. It was October so the sunset was early and the night was dark. I decided not to bring the cat carrier with me just in case I did find her. I thought the sight of the carrier might make her run off again.
I was not feeling terribly optimistic. I crossed the road and looked in the grounds of a small building where people with restricted mobility did activities during the day. Pebbles had been missing for over 11 hours by this time. I called and heard some meowing. Now I had to check if it was the right cat!. The kitty came into view. It was her. I was immensely relieved. The fact she likely hadn’t eaten for several hours may have played no small part in her responding to me.
I scooped her up and held on to her hard. She was a tortoiseshell and white cat and some of her white hairs came off on my dark brown coat. The elastic in my trouser waist had worn loose so I took the quickest way home grasping hold of Pebbles with one hand as she clung to the front of my coat and hanging on to my waistband with the other. The quick route was still a long 15 minutes.
I was extremely content to get home that night. Despite her traumatic day Pebbles demanded food quite vocally once she was indoors. I obliged her. Like I said I was happy to have her home.
By the next time I took Pebbles to the vet’s I had bought a new and secure carrier (well I had thought the old one was sound) and treated myself to a cab to take her there. I didn’t want her to run off again — for her safety and for my peace of mind.
