One reason we admire cats is for their proficiency in one-upmanship. They always seem to come out on top, no matter what they are doing, or pretend they do.
~Barbara Webster

Recently, while cat sitting for my neighbor’s two felines, I had quite the scare. As I doled out kibble, I heard a loud meow that seemed to be coming from behind the stove.

Of course, I was startled. Heart racing, I opened the stove and saw that it was empty. Quickly, I searched the small condominium for the cats. I could only find one. Panic set in. Could Diesel have crawled behind the appliances? Was he trapped or hurt?

I hurried across the hallway to retrieve my cell phone and dialed Mary, the owner. Her voicemail kicked in and announced that her mailbox was full. Shoot! What to do?

It occurred to me to call the fire department. Wouldn’t they be willing to help a lady who was looking out for the welfare of a beloved pet? I called the non-emergency phone number and explained my situation.

“Well, I suppose we could send a firefighter out to see if he can help. We haven’t any emergencies at the moment.”

Diligently, I began to look in every nook and cranny for M.I.A. Diesel. Having a cat, myself, I was aware that they could hide in the oddest of places. “Diesel. Kitty, kitty. Come on, Diesel, I have a treat.” As I continued to hunt, I felt lightheaded and nauseous. “Dear Lord, please let him be alright,” I prayed.

“Meooow,” I heard again. The sound was definitely coming from the kitchen wall. That poor cat had been stuck in there at least fifteen minutes since the last time I heard him. I ran to the spot and, with a closed fist, began to tap the wall. I heard nothing.

My investigation was interrupted by the knocking on the front door. “Come in!” I shouted.

Two extremely fit and handsome firemen entered. Stay focused, I chided myself.

Introducing themselves, I realized I was clad in pajamas and slippers that weren’t a pair. Stay focused!

I explained the situation quickly as my panic returned. “He must be stuck!” I cried.

“Meooow!”

“Goodness, it sounds like he’s in the wall!” exclaimed blond Rob.

Stay focused! This is a serious situation!

“I suppose we can open the wall,” Rob continued. “This is your condo?”

“No, I’m cat sitting. I live across the hall.”

“We’ll need to contact the owner before we do any damage.”

“She isn’t answering her phone, and her voicemail is full.”

“Hmm. Does he know his name? I’m a dog person. I must admit I know little about cats.”

“Yes, but cats rarely come when called.”

Gorgeous Tim piped in, “Maybe we can shake his food bowl. Perhaps he’ll try to come for food.”

The three of us stood facing the oven as kibble sounds emanated from the bowl. We heard nothing. “Dear Lord,” I prayed again aloud. “Please let him be alive!”

The sweet Lord answered with, “Meooow!” but this time it was coming from behind us.

Rob turned and asked, “How many cats does she have?”

I turned, too. Sitting not three feet behind us were Diesel and Mitsi. “What? She has two, these two,” I sighed as I pointed. “Who is trapped in the wall?”

We looked at one another. Tim shrugged his shoulders, and Rob said, “Hmm. This is the damnedest thing. Are you sure she only has two?”

“Positive.” I turned again. Was the furry pair smirking? Honestly, I am quite sure they were.

Silence.

“Meooow!”

Rob began to laugh as he reached for the clock mounted above the stove. Twelve cats on a round disc were positioned as the décor on this timepiece.

Rob turned the minute hand slowly until it reached the feline at quarter past.

“Meooow!”

— Kathleen Gemmell —