A Purr-fect Companion

After my parents got married and bought the farm, my city-fied mother decided that if she had to live in the country she would make the best of it. So, she got a black lab puppy and a yellow and white tabby kitten. CA (my mom) loved the name Hannah, and thus the kitten was named Hannah. If you know anything about orange and white cats you know that they are typically male. Well, CA had looked and declared that she had a miracle cat since hers was a female. Upon the first vet visit she was devastated to find out that she was incorrect. Hannah was indeed a male. Thus, Hannibal was born.

Throughout the years, there has always been a Hannibal on the farm. Hannibal IV came into our lives when my sister, Emily, was in the 2nd grade (she has been out of college for two years now-you do the math). Less than two weeks old, he was found in a barn and had to be eye-dropper fed since he was so small. Having a human mama wipe your bottom and hand feed you every hour would probably make any cat baby spoiled. Has he always though he was human? Yes.

With my parents living overseas, CA has said the last few years that her greatest fear would be to leave and never see Hannibal again. This last stint returned her home to a very happy cat. This week has been busy at our house with company in and out. Sometimes Pumpkin (yes, we have another orange and white one) does not come to the back door when we have guests, but Hannibal is always ready to wiggle his way in for extra affection. That being said, when the dust settled last night Mom and I both commented how we had not seen him in a couple of days. Strange. Very strange. This morning there was no Hannibal. Very very strange. Plummeting very quickly into panic mode, we devised a plan to search all of the places he might be trapped. Nothing quite added up and we both knew that all of our thoughts were not right. As I headed upstairs to grab some dirty laundry it hit me. Delivery men came on Wednesday to deliver bar stools. And he had been missing since then. Hannibal was often referred to as Inspector General. Any time anything new came around he had to inspect it. Years ago my uncle left his trunk open, Hannibal hopped in, unknowingly took a ride and was fortunately found that night when the trunk was re-opened to take out the shovels which had been placed in it earlier. All this being said, he inspects everything.

I cannot tell you how long I was on the phone today. I googled all of the delivery companies in Tyler, TX (where we knew it was based) and had my mom calling down the list. I had the idea to call the Restoration Hardware in Dallas since it was close and they might be able to tell me the exact company. A sweet girl, who was such a dear, tracked down the company owner's cell and email! I called the man, who was very-much enjoying his Saturday playing with his children, told him the story and his response was, "You've got to be kidding me." I assure him I was not joking at all. The cat was not in the truck when it returned, but it had made two stops after our house. The man assured me that he would call the men who had actually delivered to us, and then call the other two places where deliveries had been made. We. Are. Still. Waiting.

You know when you get a certain feeling that you just know something has happened the way you imagine it in your head? I know that Hannibal got into that truck. And I know that he is gone. And I have no idea if we will ever see him again. Just earlier this week I found myself wondering how he would go. I know that this might seem silly since he is an animal, but as it is with anyone who is a part of your family, it is hard to imagine them gone. All we can do is hope that either our prayers are answered and Hannibal comes home or that he finds a new loving home to spend the rest of his days.