The Wayward One

The News predicted the tornado would be  in Belton  between six-forty and six-forty-five pm.

So of course during that exact time frame,  in a deluge of rain, I was calling for Moggy (he decided he had had enough of TheGirls earlier today and wanted to be an Outside Kitty).  I moved from  the relative shelter of the front porch to sit in the SUV with the windows cracked, and called him a few more minutes. 

He was a no-show.  This would take more action on my part. But I know the drill because I've done it before. 

I left TheGirls, safe at home, while  I drove around the block.  Then, pretending I was coming home from work, I drove up and reparked. I recracked the windows and called for Moggy a few more minutes. 

Usually when Moggy is nearby he  scampers to meet me when I drive in. 

Not tonight. He was nowhere in sight.

Sometimes I have to wait a few. 

Sometimes I have to wait a few and call.  

And sometimes, I have to wait a few, call, and resort to trickery by "leaving" and "returning."

So I tried again. I pulled out.  Checking all his favorite spots as I drove around the block, again.  Then I parked. Cracked the windows. Called his name.

Moggy was not to be tricked out of whatever safe spot he found for himself. 

I envisioned swirling white cats with black markings in an apple green sky.  

I could not give up my search.  This would take drastic action.

I would drive through the cemetary--at least along the road closest me. 

As I entered the cemetary the rain slacked up to just a steady downpour. I cracked the windows a little further, drove as slow as I could, and called. 

About halfway to the back fence I heard the alarm.  

The back fence in the corner of the cemetary closest to me is the scary part of the cemetary.   Especially when I go looking for Moggy late at night. 

Not because of ghosts. 

Not because of goth-clad visitors.  

Not because of screech owls or other scary sounding animals.  

The branches of the bushes and small trees are overgrown, and as I drive past them they appear to reach inside the open SUV window grabbing for me. 

When I  heard the warning alarm I was about halfway to the back fence.  Safe from the branches.  However, I wasted no time getting to the side road on the far side of the cemetary.  (It really  is a scary corner--even in the daylight). 

As I reached the side road the rain abruptly stopped falling. The sun burst out from under the gray cloud cover, and started shining brilliantly. The tree branches were no longer shrouded in watery shadows.  

However, I did not turn back. 

I focused on the alarm.

Until that very moment I had never realized the alarm was right there at the corner of the cemetary and the laundromat.  Over the years I have heard it clearly when I lived on the UMHB Campus, Main Street, and West Belton.  The past thirty-five years I  assumed the alarm was downtown around the Courthouse. I guess I really am directionally sound challenged. 

Arriving home,  after the aborted cemetary run, I  parked,  for the fourth time, and waited for That Darn Cat. A couple neighbors came outside and we chatted.  

Still no Moggy.

Now that the sun is shinning, the rain has stopped, and I am no longer visualizing Moggy flying through the air like the witchy bike-riding Miss Gulch  in "The Wizard of Oz," or the cow in "Twister," I realized the irony of it all...

How frustrating it must be for Christ, our Good Shepherd, when He chooses  to leave the 99, in order  to go look for the wayward one.