I got my morning heart attack when I woke up, and Brian fed the cats, and Hopper (pictured, who as you can tell "never misses a meal, or Jack's either") was right there ready to eat it.
Jack, our other kitten however, was nowhere in sight.
I called him, I jingled his food dish, which usually makes him come running. No response. Brian looked for him in the basement, and I started checking the front porch and other favorite spots. No Jack.
I went outside and saw kitty paw prints on the sidewalk, and panicked. Brian had already been up so he was fully dressed, and started following them.
Oh my God, I said. I CAN'T LOSE MY KITTEN. IT'S CHRISTMAS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
After a half-hour search, Brian up and down the streets and me in the house and outside a bit (I stayed close in case he came back), I walked into the house and I called him one more time.
The little guy showed up. Judging by how warm he was, he hadn't left the house.
Big sigh. "Jack," I said. "Don't ever do that to me again. That's NOT FUNNY."
"Meow," he said. Which I took to either mean "Sorry," or "Whatever." It's so hard to tell.
I went out and found Brian, and said Jack was safe.
What a scare!
So it's 8:30 now, and I've checked Joel's flight and it left New York on time and will be in Houston in about an hour. I watch the little flight simulation on Continental.com, and see he's over the Alabama and Mississippi line right now.
His flight to Denver appears to be on time.
So far so good.