August 21—They (whoever “they” are) say that a cat has nine lives. I wonder which life Charlie is enjoying right now.
We found him. Or, rather, he let himself to be found.
We looked high and low for Charlie, in every conceivable spot in this motorhome. I mean…how many places can hide a cat in less than 400 square feet?
After going over the motorhome home inch by inch, again and again, Jim and I finally lamented that he was gone. Jim wanted to get in the car and head back to Yuma, although he knew logically the cat would not be there. Jim felt very bad. So did I.
Night fell over the mountains, and a lightning and thunder rain storm washed over us. After it passed, it was time to find some dinner. Jim said he wasn’t hungry, but I was, so we went off to find a restaurant in Bisbee, about six miles from here.
We found a local Mexican restaurant and enjoyed a dish we had never had before. Then we returned home.
Jim walked into the bedroom—and what did he find? Charlie.
The little you-know-what had been hiding all along. Where? We don’t know. But I think we have to find out, because he’s bound to hide there again.
Jim has a love/hate relationship with Charlie, who promptly ran to his favorite safe place, under the kitchen cabinet. He refused to come out and he actually hissed at Jim.
Welcome, home, Charlie. We missed you, even if you weren’t gone!
Your Reluctant RoVer,