Stupid manipulative furball

I flipped out this morning when I couldn't find Gracie.

She'd made her presence known first thing in the morning, when she did her best to trip me in the hallway.

Then, I was downstairs having breakfast and talking to my roommate, who had come down, when I heard her cry somewhere. I long ago stopped taking her seriously when she cries, because girlfriend cries wolf all the time. Just the other night, she was emitting such a pitiable noise that I asked RM whether he’d let her in when he locked up, and he said ‘of course.’ But she sounded very forlorn that I thought I’d check. Of course, within thirty seconds, she was upstairs and perfectly fine. I think she was crying because she wanted to go back out. She did the same thing last night.

So this morning, after the crying, I stepped out to get the paper, but didn't see her run out or anything. When I fed her at 6:30, which is her breakfast time, she was nowhere to be found. She didn’t run downstairs when she heard me rattle to kibble in its scoop. I checked for her everywhere, didn’t find her. I HAD to go to work then, so I did.

I was really worried. Could she have run out without my seeing her? She doesn't go far, but could someone have snatched her up, before 6am, when I would have gotten the paper?

I started blaming myself, then bargaining. Should I have paid attention to the crying, and made absolutely sure she stayed in? If I come home to find my cat alive, I'll stop calling her names, stop trying to write a song about her to the tune of Dennis Leary's "I'm an Asshole," which is actually quite difficult in any case. I'll remember to brush her teeth more often. And so on.

Now I guess I'll have to stick to that, since she's fine.