I’m stuck in limbo between hope and heartbreak.
Our sweet cat Luna got out of our apartment on Sunday, and she hasn’t come back. I’ve spent the last four days battling anxiety, walking my neighborhood dozens of times, hanging up almost a hundred flyers, talking to strangers, and battling with constantly wanting to cry. We have floor to ceiling sliding windows in our first floor apartment that go right out onto the street that we’ve kept cracked for the last few nights, hoping that she’ll just walk right in. We finally shut them last night because of safety, and I had to fight the guilt and the sadness that I know I won’t wake up to find her curled up at the foot of our bed, having wandered in during the night.
She’s so cute and hilarious and weird and annoying and lovable. I want those sweet cuddle sessions back, I want her to come play fetch with my hair-ties, I even want those times when she’s meowing incessantly for food or in the middle of the night. I want to be woken up by that sassy little fartmuffin.
I’m riding this fine line of feeling heartbroken that I can’t squash her cute face and kiss her tiny nose right now, and hope that she’ll come back or be found- SO many people have told me that their cats have just come back after weeks, months, or even years in one case. It’s been less than a week- there is still a big chance she’ll come home! I’m really trying to hold onto this hope, but as an emotional person, I keep ping-ponging from hopeful to morose to angry (my poor husband).
Here’s to trying to hold on to the hope and faith and positive thoughts. If you could send your positive thoughts our way, it would be appreciated…