The Return of Mud Cat

“Mud Cat” is short for Mud Bay Cat, a six-year-old Bengal who lives with me. His real name is Pi—after the young man, not the Bengal tiger, in Yann Martell’s allegory, Life of Pi—although he answers to kitty. Bengals are noisy and demanding. They are also affectionate and operate best as one-person cats. Pi was born in a cattery in Port Angeles. Other than early kittenhood, he has lived his entire life on or near Mud Bay. Last year about this time he disappeared.

There’s a dog-journey story currently in the local media. Tragically a woman traveling with her Siberian husky Neo was killed in a traffic accident near Snowville, Utah, on April 4. Neo survived the crash and stayed with his owner until the ambulance arrived. Then in the confusion he ran off wearing a harness and trailing a leash. A Siberian husky was later seen in Idaho and positively identified as Neo. The woman’s sister thinks it’s possible Neo is on his way back to Kelso, Washington, both women’s home—a distance of about 700 miles. Let’s hope Neo makes it, either on his own or with the help of humans.

Pi’s journey was probably more like 700 yards, but his two-day sojourn lasted long enough to make me think he was gone for good. This, after all, from a cat who had never spent even a full night away from home and has my phone number embroidered on his collar. I posted flyers, put an ad on Craig’s List, checked with the Kitsap Humane Society, and talked to everyone in the neighborhood I could when I was out looking for him. My fear was that he had tangled with a raccoon or coyote. My hope was that he had gotten shut inside a nearby garage or shed on the rainy mid-April afternoon when he left.

On the second morning he showed up on the deck and demanded entrance. There was a brief reunion, a quick meal, and a long nap in the guest bedroom upstairs. I grounded him for a couple of days. However, wherever he had been, he wasn’t talking about it.