Getting my feline "child" from behind bars

Sammy cat is my special blue-eyed baby, the only blue-eyed cat in the neighborhood that I know of. He's gentle and sweet and would rather love than eat, but preferably do both at the same time. He also proved himself to be a glutton and stupid on Tuesday night.

Upon occasion, he is late for breakfast on the patio at 6 in the morning, so while I wasn't happy with his absence Wednesday morning, who doesn't want to sleep in sometimes? But when he didn't show for lunch, I feared he could be injured somewhere or be pinned down by another cat. Sam is, after all, lover more than fighter.

I go calling for him throughout the neighborhood and happen to see my new neighbor across the street. Had he, by chance, seen a yellow cat? Yes, he had. He'd trapped one the night before and it was already at the pound.

My heart bumped along furiously and my stomach knotted. It took me three hours to connect with the animal control officer. We met at the pound. There were a dozen or more dogs and about 6 cats in cages. Sam was so upset by the barking that his pupils almost eclipsed his blue irises. His cage-mate was patiently sitting it out. Sam was scared witless.

I was reminded of old Westerns where the righteous rancher stands with the Sheriff and looks into the jail cell. Then he says, "Yep, that's my boy. What's he done now?"

As the officer pulled Sam out and put him into my carrier, I was grateful I'd seen my new neighbor. I wouldn't have thought of Sam wondering away from home in that direction and being trapped until it would have been too late and he would have been put down. All because of a can of cat food. I feed Sam three times a day, but some smells must be irresistible.

I hope he's learned his lesson and taken wandering across the street off his agenda. I know that next time he's late for breakfast, I'm going on an immediate hunt.