Last night at about 9 pm, a fluffy white and black cat attacked our Molly in the back yard. It was the full cat attack, complete with screech.
I yelled and chased the other cat off the property, but Molly took off so fast in another direction that I couldn’t even track where she went.
I called to her, but she didn’t respond. I figured that she was rightfully spooked and probably took off into the woods (our house adjoins a park). After about an hour, I started to worry that she might be injured and started looking for her. Nothing.
After locating a flashlight, I searched under the deck and up on the roof and all over. Nothing.
This morning, I called to her and even tapped a can of food. Nothing.
By lunchtime, I was thinking about how the coyotes took our other cat Zoom. I was watching the sky for birds of prey. Ben and I took a walk, calling to her and listening for the slightest miaow. Nothing.
A couple of hours ago, I put out an alert on her microchip in case someone found her. I alerted my nearest neighbor, and had just gotten off the phone when -
THERE SHE WAS!! Bounding toward us!
So skittish she almost ran away when we opened the door. Ben and I went inside and opened a can of her favorite food. She slinked into the kitchen – without her normal bossy tones – and munched down. Good sign.
She was trembling, still obviously frightened. I checked her carefully, but she appeared to be uninjured – physically, at least.
We’ve been comforting her, and now she and Ben are nestled up together. She’s all warm and happy.
And so are we. Such a scare.
We love our little Molly.