It is with a heavy heart and diminishing hope of recovery that I share with friends tonight the sad news about our beloved Radar, aka Basement Cat. He has gone missing.
Radar is a rescue stray who was trapped and neutered from beneath a building at my school and then given to us for adoption. He's a typical domestic black shorthair with intelligent eyes and a a penchant for attacking everything that moves. He's been my muse for the last year and the subject of many an image as his alter ego BC and as I sit here typing at my desk his absence is palpable. He should be right alongside my laptop preparing to capture the arrow curser as it moves, and peeking around the back of the screen to see where it went when it reaches the edge of the page.
Radar was never able to completely shake whatever fear or wariness remained from his time on the street, or from being captured, or which is simply part of his natural disposition. This skittishness earned him the nickname "Fraidar" because he is pretty much a fraidy cat. He's the cat that semi-freaks at a sudden noise like rustling paper, or trots away if you move your foot unexpectedly when he's nearby. This attitude is endearing since he's also totally liquid in your hands when picked up after getting scared. I can hang him upside down and scratch his belly and get nothing but purrs, as long as I don't clear my throat while doing it. That'll earn me a scratch on his way off. Like I said, he's a Fraidar.
Unfortunately, his skittishness is likely keeping him holed up somewhere "safe" from the many coyotes roaming the greenbelts around our neighborhood. Their scent is everywhere and we suspect that after he ventured outside through the open garage door (I was working in there very late at night), the sound and motion of the closing door sent him bolting into the greenbelt and then he discovered he was surrounded by the scent markings of predators.
Cats with that kind of disposition will hide and won't reveal their location. It makes sense, but it also makes finding such a cat that much harder. So far the live trap has yielded no result. The Austin animal shelter has a black cat from our general area turned in today, but it isn't Radar. I have postings on Craigslist and signs up and neighbors have been notified. Going into the fourth night, things aren't looking so promising and we are devastated.
Yet, I retain hope that someone will trap him and hand him in, and trap him they will have to. He wouldn't come willingly even to me at this point, and I'm his Mom. Radar is chipped as well, but his collar wasn't on when he left so I dunno. The whole thing sucks. The kids are sad, I'm sad, everyone is sad. The saddest of all is the grumpy old lady Sirius who had a hard time admitting she even liked Radar until the past few months when she stopped resisting his forced grooming. She even stopped fighting when he pinned her down. Now she won't eat, or barely eats anyway, since he's gone missing. Not even the fancy cans interest her.
Sirius is actively looking for him outside and inside the house, which is the single ray of hope that he remains alive. She isn't grieving him, and that's about the only good news I have to offer.
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?