So I  get to the office this morning and start feeding all the cats and quickly come to realize that I cannot find Frida. I look in all the usual places she hangs out and can’t find her, so then I start looking in unusual places like closed closets, closed cabinets, under furniture and so on.  No Frida.

After 10 or 15 minutes of this searching I’m a frantic mess.  Where could she be?  Is she hurt?  Is she trapped somewhere?  

And then I see it, A big gaping hole where a window pane used to be. I look through the hole and see the window pane on the ground below. Oh no. Frida has escaped!  

With cup of chow in hand I head outside to look for her. I rattle the chow, calling “Frida.  Frida!  FRIDAAAAAAA!!!”  Of course this attracts every cat in the yard. I hear the faint jingling of collar tags and follow the song to the side of the building and there she is, under the house. I approach her and of course she retreats further into the dark damp abyss. Damn. Thompson is determined to protect me from this horrid beast he knows I call Frida, hiding behind me, hissing and snarling. Thanks for the help, TomTom. 

She is interested in the chow I carry, but not at all keen on the idea of  being scooped up. I figure I might as well let her eat. I pour a puddle of the meow chow on the sidewalk and here she comes. I let her eat a few bites before I scoop her up and head inside. I was sure she would shred me to pieces, especially with Thompson following alongside, still snarling and hissing.  Thankfully I only suffered some slight shoulder piercings, which I happily accepted.

Finally back inside, she is all about her creature comforts she has come to love:  food in a bowl, water in a bowl, indoor litter box. Brother Pablo was so happy to see her, would not leave her side and could not stop sniffing all over her.  Exhausted from a night on the lamb, she is resting quietly in her favorite box of paperwork. 

All’s well that ends well. Now to fix that blasted window pane.