Obsessive is not a four-letter word

I've always had a one-track mind, which plays continuous loops of food or alcohol thoughts. I feel like I might possibly be obsessing about my missing cat, but that's what I do. That's who I am, scoffing at sleep and food and, yes, beer, when something's going on in my life. I imagine if I didn't have a blog, I'd be emailing family, and attaching various cat photos...just to reminisce (who am I kidding? I do that anyway).

I managed to get Summer's photo put in our area newspaper classified ads. It's very tiny, but between that and the seventy-five fliers around town, I've gotten three phone calls.

#1: "Is your cat black?"

Um, no, that's why there's a PHOTO!
#2: "I may have seen your cat..chasing chipmunks in my area."

This one was VERY promising, since my Summer did love bringing live chipmunks into the house for days of enjoyment (seriously, have you ever tried to catch one? They're like humingbirds...with legs). My two-year old son's version of the word was better...listening to him scream "motherfunk" every time he saw a chipmunk was well worth it.

"She's white and caramel-colored and has been around for about three months."

Nope. Sigh.
#3: "I saw her about 3 days ago. I had to stop my car to let her cross the street - a white cat with a dark tail. She didn't seem to be in any hurry."

Yep, that's her. And remember I wrote a few days ago that my dog was a dumb blonde with ADD? Well...it turns out she took us to the location near this woman's house so perhaps I should have trusted her instincts.

Back to the search this weekend.

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