|A similar cat story, sort of|
Then Saturday morning he was nowhere to be found. Everyone searched high and low, in every possible hiding place in and around the house. The granddaughter, one of the twins, blamed herself, was sure it had escaped through the patio door she had temporarily left open. The most heartbroken of all, she cried unconsolably at times throughout the day.
Grandparents and friends were called, next door neighbors were contacted, even local animal shelters were alerted to be on the lookout for this playful young cat. Fervent prayers were offered, too, not just for Garfield's return, but that he would be kept safe and well cared for.
By nightfall everyone had pretty much given up, but after the twins went to sleep last night, our daughter Joanna made one last round around the house with a flashlight in an approaching storm, hoping to find the lost and latest member of their household. All to no avail.
Then at ten p.m. we got an excited phone call from Joanna, reporting that the cat had just reappeared out of nowhere in the oldest son's room, just as if nothing had happened.
We were elated, knowing how much this would mean to the grandchildren. And this morning Joanna made a videotape of the celebration of the lost being found, reminiscent of a story Jesus once told of a shepherd rejoicing over finding a lone straying sheep.
A miracle? We think so.
If only someone could figure out where Garfield was hiding, and what he was doing all that time.