To calm myself I fantasized about a specific moment these three days - since baby's disappearance. The fantasy captured the moment when I opened the spare room door, the window of which we had left open every night lest Vicky returns. And there she would be, unscathed and frivolous.
This morning, I had the astonishing experience of having a dream realised in front of my very eyes.
Staggering to the spare room door the first thing after getting up, exactly as I've done every morning since Vicky's absence, I pushed the tight door open and there darling Vicky was, meowing cheerily at me. I very nearly bisected Lizz closing the door in an attempt to thwart her sudden charge to escape through the beckoning open window. Still. There, in real life, sat Vicky.
I'd imagined she'd be wounded or at the very least famished and parched, but she was not hungry, thirsty or hurt. Instead, she was very nonchalant about the entire experience. She calls it "Vicky's Travels". I call it "Vicky Does Dallas".
The little slut is most certainly pregnant, so please start sending in your orders for cute little kittens around the middle of January next year. If even one of them is a ginger, I will know exactly who the father is. A very young, very virile little ginger tom has been hanging around our back yard since we moved here.
Anyway, thanks be to the gods for their mercy in returning her more or less unscathed. It was becoming a living hell to spot our baby in every moving shadow, to hear her cries in every little sound outside.
Written by I