And the Cat Came Back (just wouldn't stay away)

I talk a lot about getting lost, and for the most part I never mean that as a bad thing. If I weren't so lost, I wouldn't have the chance to meet & enjoy all the loves in my life -- scattered about though y'all are. Was recently reminded (thanks Michele) of a time when someone else was lost... sadly though, he didn't stay that way for long.

Lisa & I had just moved back to Tucson from New Orleans and she had somehow hoodwinked, no - cajoled, no - begged me to hold onto her demon cat, Bailey, for a time. Author's note - this cat is not my friend, we do not see eye to eye, and yes Robyne, he probably *did* try to kill you in your sleep that time you stayed over.

At any rate. I'd just moved into a crappy duplex in Tucson, had probably been there two or three days when Bailey jumped ship. Couldn't find him anywhere. Secretly, my money's still on Sit, it's highly likely that she helped him escape... she never did like to share. With no good way to explain Bailey's absence to Lisa, it was time to fess up and to organize a search party.

And hilarity ensues...

Michele, Lisa & I, geniuses that we were, started our search that very night, at night. We drove the neighborhood slowly, very slowly, the two of them hanging out the windows with wimpy household flashlights calling out "Bay, Baaaaaay, Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaailey". Carefully winding our way up and down each street, we noticed another car that was also slowly cruising along, doubling back and passing us a few times. Great. This outta turn out well.

Defeated by our ridiculously useless search methods, we headed back to the apartment. No sooner had we pulled in, then a police car crept into the driveway and parked at a distance. "I'm gonna let him know we're just looking for the cat," I offered and started to walk back to the patrol car. Seems like the right move, right? Assure the police that, despite our flashlights, creepy slow driving, and otherwise odd behavior in the dead of night, that we were just fretting pet owners looking for a runaway.

"Step away from the car," boomed a voice over the PA. Now, pay attention people, 'cause the rest of this happened reeeeeeally quickly. The flood light flashed on, square in my face, the officer jumped out of the car and, I swear, drew his gun (that bit might be an exaggeration, I don't remember, but it makes for a better version of the story so do forgive...). "Hands up!" "Um," stunned, I squeaked out "we're just looking for our cat". Cue two other squad cars squealing into the drive, kicking up dust and waking the neighbors and, this part I'm not making up, a HELICOPTER flying low and loud overhead, its floodlight trained on Lisa who was sitting on the trunk of my car with her mouth so agape that her chin was in her lap.

What in the...

After a few moments of complete confusion, a few gazillion officers now on site, (did I mention it was well after midnight and I'd only moved in a few days before... those neighbors never did recover), a brief run-in with the canine unit that had mysteriously also appeared and an impressive amount of bladder control on my part, we started to get things straightened out.

The car that had passed us a few times mid-search party was an unmarked police car. He ran my plates ('cause I guess in Tucson it's not normal to cruise around at midnight with flashlights poking into the bushes, whatev) and my car came up as a stolen vehicle in Louisiana. Ahhhhhhhh - right. That's because *I* reported it stolen six months earlier when the fabulous NOPD towed it, denied having towed it, took my stolen vehicle report, let me get a check from my insurance company and then mailed me a letter saying that if I didn't come get my car from the impound lot that they would sell it and submit the proceeds to the Police Activities League... Good Lord. After all that, I don't suppose that I should have expected them to nix that stolen vehicle report once I discovered that THEY were the ones who'd stolen it...

So, after much explanation, including digging out the original vehicle title from a still-packed box in the living room and calling to wake my parents to verify the registration info (was still registered at their AZ address) -- the party bird finally killed the spotlight and went off to bust college kids on Speedway. The rest of the officers stopped waking my new neighbors to ask what they knew about us, and we were left trying to talk the canine unit into using their highly-trained, overly-qualified German Shepard to find the cat. "What if he sniffs the litter box, will that help?"

The remaining officer left to clean up the mess told us that the call that had gone out was something just shy of an APB. The combination of the out-of-state stolen car and the suspicious nighttime-flashlight behavior had TPD all in lather. She said that a lieutenant had been pulled out of bed for it... we were kind of a big deal it seemed.

Still, of course, once the dust settled and everyone went home, no Bailey.

No joke though, the next morning he was sitting on the hood of my car, waiting to be let back inside. Undoubtedly he called the cops himself, just to see what would happen...