Buddy Disappears

Buddy the cat finally took his revenge for all those exercise programs I have been iiiiiiiiiiesigning— (sorry, Buddy walked across the keyboard)—designing for him. He simply disappeared.

Buddy

I’ve wondered for some time if Buddy might be magical. I’ve already pointed out his propensity for Star-Trek-like teleportation. Mostly these teleportations are of short duration: 15 – 30 minutes between changes in location. (I have yet to witness any significant energy exchange at the moment of transport so I have no rational explanation for his powers.)

Buddy’s appearences/disappearences is one of his many quirky traits. I’ve grown attached to him more quickly than I would have guessed. He is the epitome of his name. Often he will stay close by if I seem to be limiting my movement to a particular room. When I wash dishes I have to be sure to look down before I move because he is often curled near my feet. As of late, he has taken to stretching on the keyboard. If I’m working mostly with the mouse (oh, something weird word-wise going on there), his presence is welcomed because I can still get work done; if my activity is keyboard intensive, I either have to shoo him or rub his cotton-soft belly.

None of this is to say that Buddy is “soft” as in “dependent in nature.” He’s a 14-year-old (we think) adult who is secure enough in his self-perception to provide everybody some “alone” time. He often sleeps an afternoon away on his cardboard boxes upstairs. He is totally comfortable here already. He knows this is his home. He can do what he wants, when he wants. (As long as his input/output functions are handled on an acceptable level of civility.)

Not seeing Buddy for an hour or two is not unusual, but as a rule he drinks a lot and pees a lot so there is much back-and-forth traffic between water bowl and litter box. Prolonged absences often end because he needs to visit the john. I couldn’t recall any recent traffic on his part.

After getting on hands and knees and peering way back into the corner under the red recliner to find he wasn’t there, I loudly called his name. He almost always comes to his called name to see what the ruckus is all about. No response. Go to the bottom of the stairs. Call his name. Still nothing. Climb stairs to the library (dozens of boxes crammed with books) which is where he likes to lounge on an empty box. No Buddy. He doesn’t seem to be here. Call his name in bedroom and storage space. Back downstairs. Open cellar door, turn on light, call to cat. Wait.

Concerned. Can’t seem to find Buddy, and, with no response to ever-louder calls to him, I become more and more anxious. I even started to get morbid thoughts: did he crawl off to die alone after getting sick? I did give him new food today.

Back through the entire house—only this time, looking for the body of small fluffy friend in every room, every space in every room, top to bottom. Still no sign of the cat.

With adrenalin pumping, one starts to entertain many a possibility as to why the cat has apparently disappeared to include: teleportation, kidnapping (the front door was unlocked and I may have heard something earlier that I left uninvestigated), a split in the universe which is suddenly veering in a Buddy-free direction, punishment from a god angry at my skepticism, or even a mental-anguish experience forced on me as the specimen of an experimenting AI.

Determined to comb the cat-proof cellar with all the attention I had been devoting to the remainder of the house, I started looking from the foot of the cellar stairs. I walked toward a lit, hanging lamp like mechanics use illuminating the far-end wall. Scanning to either side I nearly reached the back wall when there was a flicker of motion low to my left. There it is, a slightly less-dark patch than the dark enveloping it. Another quiver. I step back, look down, and there, peering up from between two piles of stuff, was his highness looking up with eyes that asked “Hey dude, what’s up?”

So happy and fulfilled to have him back as opposed to what it feels like with him absent. Binary states; as basic as it gets. Later, long before I sort out all of the cause-and-effect lines of thought mentioned earlier, I’m gonna pull him closer to me on the desk, encircle him in my arms and nestle my head on his soft, fuzzy wonderfulness. There I will dream of a future universe in which Buddy is with me forever. We two aliens—bonded by curiosity—will pilot this small house/time-ship to far-flung adventures in the future.

Me and my Buddy.