Although we had a few rough patches, the 4^th turned out to be a very pleasant one. We met up with BF and her family downtown on the 3^rd for the fireworks. It was c-r-o-w-d-e-d. BF’s husband spent 90 minutes trying to find bottled water – to no avail. We shared Peanut’s cup of water with BF’s daughter, who ended up puking later that night. (So far no pukies for us. I’m praying it stays that way). The fireworks finally started at dark and lasted a whopping 10 effin’ minutes. Talk about a shitty display. Ironically, it was for the best. Peanut was absolutely TERR-I-FIED. He wailed and shook the whole 10 minutes. We resorted to covering his ears while he buried his face in Hubby’s shoulder. He’d settle down for a few seconds, then take a look, see the fireworks, and begin wailing again. As soon as the display finished, we hightailed it outta there. Thankfully, Peanut was pooped and fell asleep in the car.

Hubby had to attend a 6 am autopsy on the 4th, so he set the alarm while leaving the house at an ungodly early hour. I went to let the dog out the back door, having forgotten the alarm...opening anything other than the front or garage doors sets of the audible siren. Peanut had another shaky scream-fest and the cats scattered to hide under various pieces of furniture. Some cuddling and breakfast took care of him, but I was still jittery for another half hour.

We went to BF’s parents’ house in the afternoon for a yummy cookout. Peanut, true to form, didn’t want any of the food and showed his dislike by throwing and/or spitting it out. We finally compromised on sausage, one piece a time onto his plate (any quantity more than one piece on his plate get tossed onto the floor).

We got home around 6 and fed Peanut some dinner. By dusk, several neighbors began setting off their own fireworks displays. We had at least 7 groups shooting mortars – it was great. We could watch from any window in the house. Peanut got scared again, so we had to close the blinds and turn up the TV. He finally fell asleep on Daddy’s lap. As I was getting into bed, our oldest cat slinked under the bed to hide from the ongoing booming. I realized I hadn’t seen our goofy Siamese mix all day. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him – the day before….longer ago than that? Hubby and I searched to no avail.

Once Peanut and I were asleep, Hubby searched the neighborhood. He found a cat lying in the gutter and knew what had happened. Until the cat opened its eyes and trotted off. No luck.

I woke up around 2 am, couldn’t sleep, and went outside to call for kitty. Nothing. As I lay in bed, I began formulating flyers, places to put them, thought about the shelters to call. Hubby would have to get to Animal Control, which is on the way to his office, since they only impound for 3 days before euthanizing.

I decided to look for kitty again once I was showered and dressed, before Hubby and Peanut were up. The neighborhood was calm, so maybe I’d have luck. I called kitty from the back yard. Nothing. I called some more. Faint meowing from the cats inside, peering out the slider, wondering why the heck I was outside. No, the meowing was outdoors…just outside the fence. I cut through the house, out the front door, and around to the side where I heard kitty. He was gone. I called again and he came out from under our neighbor’s shed. I snatched up his furry little ass and hurried into the house. After several fuzzhead smooches, I crawled back into bed for a couple minutes.

Last night he had 3 sessions of meowing and scratching at our bedroom door. I wanted to kill him. I’m glad and relieved he’s home, but I could wring his scrawny little neck