lost cat at state welcome center

Driving down to Florida, I lost my cat Velcro at the Georgia welcome center off Interstate 95 South.

I stopped to clean cat poo off my back seat. When I opened the door, she darted into a thicket of trees and dense underbrush between parking lot and highway.

Unable to coax her out or find her in the dark, I phoned home from a pay phone to tell my parents I’d be late. I laid her bowl of dry cat food on my hood as bait, sat in my car, and waited. And waited.

I woke up around 2 AM to hear her meowing nearby. She was on the hood of the car parked next to mine, peering through its dew‐fogged windshield and meowing at its sleeping driver. I turned on my headlights, opened my door, and called Velcro!. Startled, she ran several feet off, into my headlights’s beam. As she froze, I stepped in front of my car, calling her again. After a moment, I took a step closer. She scampered into the bushes.

Perhaps hunger would bring her around again. So I kept waiting. But when dawn came, so did birds, many birds. Oh no, she’ll be in there hunting all day. Damp night turned to hot, sunny day.

In daylight, I trudged through the thicket after her. Thorny creepers tore holes in my pants and gave my arms scratches that would itch for days. On my third expedition, I spotted her tail under a bush, merely ten steps away—ten steps that would take me thirty seconds without a machete. I called, she silently crept out of sight.

As afternoon came, I was starving and tired. Thrice she had run from me. I could wait around no longer.

Tearfully, I drove away.

I stopped for lunch at a barbecue stand, bought a submarine for dinner at a nearby gas station, then turned around and drove back. (I had to go up to Exit 5 in South Carolina to U‐turn back to I‐95 South.)

Lack of sleep caught up with me and I dozed a while. Time passed. I played the beginning of City of Secrets on my laptop. Around 10 PM, I unwrapped my sub and sat on the grass eating it.

Velcro emerged and meowed to me.

I swallowed my mouthful and slowly set my sub down on its wrapper.

Dare I call to her? Better not. A hint of frustration or irritation in my tone might spook her anew.

So I sang. Seranaded her in Esperanto, because I thought it sounded sweeter. Mia bela katino, kion mi amas, mia bela katino, ne kuru mi petas…

She came a little closer. Sat and watched. Came closer. Rolled in the dirt. Came close. Sniffed at chipotle‐stained paper. Sniffed a morsel I held out. Let me pick her up.

I arrived in Florida drowsy and a day late, but newly appreciating how important Velcro is to me.