This is my Monty Q. He's been a part of my family for over seven years now, ever since I went to the shelter to look at Russian Blue kitten. The kitten was a holy terror, and the lug in the photo was sound asleep in a crate full of kittens. After three stepped on him without a single reaction, I knew he was the cat for me. He's been there to help welcome home three more little sticky beans, show them the way of the Empty Box, and just be there.
Until now. Monty's been missing since Thursday, and I think...I think he's gone. He's never gone on walkabout for this long. We'd see him every morning and night, waiting for kibbles and fresh water. Or he'd saunter in for naptime, and then head out once his little boys were up. Maybe he'd go a day without checking in, but that's the longest time period. Something doesn't feel right about this. I don't think he's coming home.
My hopes are that he's just pulled a Dude Newman and sauntered into another family's home. I've crossed every appendage I can for that outcome. Or, if the worst has happened, that it was swift, painless, and he's protecting my girl for me.
It breaks my heart to post this. I keep looking outside, expecting to see him lounging on the driveway. Or hear him yowling an 'Okay, FINE. I'm coming' as he walks across the road for mealtimes. But for now, the driveway is clear and the air is quiet. And neither is right.
