Gracie the Ghost Cat

I know I told you in September I was going to do better about getting my monthly newsletters out. I lied.  I had the best intentions, but life decided there were other I needed to do. One of which is to work on my memory.
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Here is a little short one on Gracie, our smallest and youngest cat. If you ever come to the house you will never see her. Eleni Jordan from Parkview found her drinking from oily water in a car repair parking lot.  Gracie has been skittish all her life. She is mostly black with a little white on her face, chest and paws.  We call her the baby since she is only 12 years old. The others are 13.

Mystic has developed arthritis and diabetes. She has to get shot up twice a day.  She is doing pretty well with the diabetes, but the arthritis is in her hips and back legs. 

Figaro is still queen on the house.  She still gets her eyebrows rubbed every morning with her mini-moo.  I still sing "Moo River"  to her. 

Yes, I know.  I admit to being a little off center--like 179 degrees off center.

Here is Gracie's little story.
The Ghost Cat

​It was time for Gracie to visit the vet. She wasn't sick. I hadn't had her to the vet in 3 years. Since I had to take Mystic, the diabetic princess, and Figaro, the ornery queen of the house, I decided I'd let them check her over.

She decided they would not check her over!
Gracie was not told she was going to the vet. The words “vet” and “doctor” were not even spoken in the house. The carrier wasn’t brought in so she wouldn’t be forewarned.

We searched the house over.

There was no hiding place left unturned. We combed the upstairs, the downstairs, and found every dust bunny which had been hiding from us. But no Gracie.

We crawled on the floor, lifted bedspreads, and checked every chair in the house. No Gracie.

Special treats were brought out and placed in her favorite spots. Mystic came and ate, but no Gracie.

Catnip was sprayed in her box under the desk where she loves to lay. No Gracie.

After thirty minutes of searching and not finding this little six pound cat, I gave up. 

As soon as I called the vet and canceled our appointment she came out of hiding.

The receptionist asked if I wanted to reschedule. So I made another appointment.

Appointment two came along. Gracie was laying at my feet. Normally if I would stand she would remain sleeping in her box under the desk. Normally.

I stood up. I looked down. NO cat. Just a whiff of black fluff floating in the air. 

I searched the house for twenty minutes. I knew I didn’t have time to make the appointment so I called the veterinarian’s office to cancel and reschedule the visit.

I hung up the phone and turned around. There she sat, looking sweetly at me. I knew she was thinking “Gotcha again. No travel in my plans, Mama.”

This morning was the third appointment I had made for Gracie. She came into the bathroom and wanted to have the water faucet turned on so she could drink. I did that. 

She wanted to be combed. I did that.

I fed her. She wanted to rub against my legs.

At 9:45 am she was laying under the desk. At 9:46 she was gone. No one moved. No one breathed the word “vet.” She just vanished.

The Vet’s receptionist didn’t even ask if I wanted to reschedule. I guess the third time was it.

Gracie the Ghost Cat.

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