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It was Christmas Eve morning, and I awoke with a mission: to find my lost cat.Baby-Girl. As I got ready, I could hear icy rain pelting the windows. Baby-Girl was out there somewhere in the storm; I could just feel it. Sure, it had been a couple of weeks since she'd gone missing, but I still had faith. This was the season for miracles, after all.
About two weeks ago, my sweet kitty disappeared from my parents' house in my hometown.Baby-Girl had been staying with them while I was between apartments. At the time, I lived and worked in another city. I was staying with friends until I rented my own house. Baby-girl had gotten out of my parents’ house the day before I was set to drive back home to pick her up.
My dad and I had spent that entire visit searching for her. Dad was a “realist", which meant he spent a whole lot of time trying to prepare me for the worst. “She's either been hit by a car or been taken in by someone who found her," he said. [ rolled my eyes. He could do with a little more faith!
Besides, though I couldn't explain it, I knew I'd see Baby-Girl again. She could survived on her own. If any cat could do the impossible, it was my Baby-girl. Even after I returned to my house without her, deep down I had this undeniable feeling that we would be reunited one day.
Now, home again for the holidays, I was determined to pick up my search right where I'd left off. I grabbed Baby-Girl's cat carrier and loaded it into the car, then asked my dad to drive me to the shelter.
At the shelter, a staff member took us to see the cats. We walked through rows of cages.My eyes scanned cats of all colors and sizes. None of them was my Baby-girl. Then I noticed a room farther back. I pushed ahead. “Sweet heart, that's where they keep the cats that just came in," Dad said. “Your cat wouldn't be in there."
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I insisted it didn’t hurt to look and stepped into the room.
Sensing their doubts, I was ready to prove she was my cat.
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