My cat is missing.

My cat Snooki is missing.
Nobody has seen her since Saturday the 23rd of April.
Snooki is a tortoiseshell, long haired moggy, about 4 years old.
She has a blue collar with white spikes, and a pink name tag.
She has never been away from home this long.

Snooki came into my life as a 5 month old kitten.
She had somehow made her way into the quarry I work at, and came out of her hiding place to ask the guys on the machines for some food.
When she was brought up to the office, I couldn’t believe what the universe had given me.
I had desperately been wanting, NEEDING, a pet.

This one needed rescuing, and in my eyes there was no question that she was to be mine.
At the time, I wasn’t sure how much longer this small, but significant hole in my life could go unfilled.
We were renting, and my partner was adamant that we were to have no pets until we had a place of our own.

That was until Snooki came along, and with her cute, persuasive ways, won over his heart.

She could sometimes be grumpy.
If you were invading her space, or she was sick of your attentions, she would give you a threatening growl, a quick swipe of her paw, or make a snappy lunge for your hand.
However if by chance her petite little mouth connected to any part of your body, she never clamped down. Her rice grain sized fangs never puncturing the surface of your skin.
She just wanted to warn you.

She could be a super softie.
Every night she would meow and whinge until I went to bed.
She would pretend like she wasn’t interested but within 5 minutes, you would hear the jangle of the bell on her collar as she trotted down the stairs to claim her place curled up on my stomach.

She would always watch me hang out the washing.
Rubbing her body along the edge of the washing basket, then flopping on to her back, paws dangling, resembling rabbit feet, inviting tummy rubs.
We would play with stalks of grass, or play the cat version of fetch, where I would roll a golf ball along the ground and she would chase after it, and sit next to it until I caught up and rolled it again.

She didn’t like her new sister Sasha Fierce.
When we brought her home, I’m sure it felt like Snooki’s world had crumbled.
We made sure she never felt left out, and made special allowances for her to have her own little haven away from the rambunctious, fearless kitten.

It wasn’t strange for Snooki to sometimes go out one evening and not return until the wee hours of the morning.
Sasha has even done it on occasion.

Unfortunately, curiosity and feeling like a stealth adventurer are urges too hard to ignore in a cat’s mind, even if it means their owners sit at home stressing out.

This time is different though. This isn’t 12 hours. It been 8 days.

Initially, I remained indifferent.
“Cat’s do this” I said.
” Cats are jerks.”
” She’ll be waltzing back in any minute.”

But as the days went on, and my phone stayed silent through lack of sightings or a stranger finding her, my thoughts started becoming darker.
I swing between feeling overwhelmingly depressed and cautiously optimistic.
I entertain all the worst possible scenario’s as to where she might be or what might have happened to her and I physically can’t function.
I don’t want to go to work, I hate being at my job when I could be searching, or at least waiting vigilantly at home.

We went for an aimless drive in pouring rain yesterday, scouring the sides of roads, and dense bush tracks, calling out the window.
I returned home defeated and went to bed, sleeping for 4 hours. It’s all I can do when i feel overwhelmed.

Snooki hated thunder.
The early hours of Sunday delivered a thunderstorm that lasted hours.
I cried, remembering how she would make a beeline for our room, and huddle under the bed, even sharing the space with Sasha, at the mere rumble of thunder in the sky.

Then some days, I just get this feeling that she’s okay.
Somewhere, and somehow, she’s just gallivanting around.
” Cat’s can sometimes disappear for weeks, then just turn up back at home like nothing happened” people tell me.

I can’t fathom that this little firecracker could be extinguished.
Her feistiness. Her nine lives. Surely they can’t be all used up?

My posters, my letter box fliers, my numerous online posts, the phone calls to councils and microchip registers have proven futile, and they have done nothing to help ease the stress of the unknown.

As quickly as she was given to me, she has been snatched back.

I’m sure there is a lesson to be learnt through all of this, but I’m not in a place to figure it out.
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