Monday, September 22, 2008

The furry, cross-eyed thing still sitting in my heating ducts will now forever be referred to as, "That Damn Cat."

I have called to him with kitty sweet talk; I Cajoled; Made promises that would be hard to keep; Yelled in frustration because he refused to give me the slightest Mew; Pried open 3 different slots for him to use as an exit; Offered wet food, dry food, water and kibble; Cried in frustration because Bax would never have done this and it's becoming more and more apparent that he will never be Bax.

I tried everything and he never let out a Peep. I was convinced that he had somehow died in our vent, and I was mortified that something like this could happen mere days after he moved in with us.

Finally, Husband got home and rigged-up a light and mirror combo and suddenly it all became very clear to me: That Damn Cat is alive and well and ignoring me. I can see him. He doesn't flinch when I call his name. He doesn't turn his head when I coo and cluck. He clearly prefers to stay underground, all alone and doesn't feel compelled to come to me under any circumstances.

Like I said, he will never be Bax.