Henry David Thoreau: A Short Story

Henry David Thoreau once brilliantly recited, "Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." When my cat ran away I began to apprehend what he meant. Last Monday Bob, my cat, ran away. I felt as if my heart was punching my gut. The incident took a large toll on my body. Losing Bob felt as if I left behind a past life and started anew.

It was a bizarre Monday morning when I woke up to the sight of my cat sitting on my bedroom windowsill. As I rolled out of bed, he became frightened and jumped out the window. I felt disoriented and befuddled at first, although I soon realized I needed to run after him.

“Come back,” I yelped as I dressed quicker than I had previously thought possible. As soon as I came outside I didn’t spot him, thus I began to search. After frisking through my yard for twenty minutes, I still couldn’t find him. I’m usually a stolid boy, yet today I broke into tears.

“We need to leave for school or you might be late,” my mom yelled from the front porch.

“Coming,” I hastily replied as I realized I needed to tell her the news, before quickly heading off to school, unsure of my cat’s whereabouts.
At school, I asked everybody I encountered if they had seen a cat running loose throughout the area, however, as I had feared, nobody had seen him. During lunch all I could do was imagine Bob wandering through the neighborhood, which made my pizza tasteless. The rest of the chaotic afternoon, I was reposeful, yet when I returned home, I continued to search.
"Bob," I shouted, "come back home!" When my mom came home from work we rushed into our sedan and drove around the block. After an hour without luck we gave up and headed back home without Bob. At that moment I felt beyond the anxiousness than I’d ever felt before.
The next day, I heard from one of my peers that they had seen a hungry, black cat wandering around their neighborhood and I knew it was Bob. That night my mom and I again scoured the neighborhood for an hour. Fatigue soon began to engulf us, which caused our search attempts to become anemic, thus we started back home, but first I gave the search one final attempt.
"Come on out Bob," I shouted out the window, "we miss you, please come home!"
As I rolled up the passenger-side window I heard a soft whimpering from an animal in distress, although I barely recognized at first. I climbed out of the car and slowly made my way to the sound until I traced it to a fertile hibiscus garden alongside the road, yet he wasn’t there. My facial expression must have shown that he was nowhere in sight since my mom called out to check the conventional drainage pipe further down the road. I immediately ran over and scanned the inside of the pipe and to my surprise, I was able to identify the ragged looking cat that I knew as Bob. I tried to coax him out, however, he seemed frightened. When I glanced over at my mom for assistance, she pondered a resolution for a moment before she ordered, "Stay here."
“Mom, what are you doing?” I hollered after her, however she didn’t hear my calls.

My mom quickly sped off down the street and returned after what felt parallel to an eternity later with a can of tuna. She gently set it down outside the drainage pipe and as soon as Bob picked up the scent, he emanated from the pipe and attacked the food ferociously. Today was the first time I had seen Bob in several days. After he promptly devoured the food, I picked up to embrace the festive moment and consequently smelled the horrid stench he acquired from the dirty drainage pipe. When we returned home, I vowed to never let him escape again.

Last week was an immensely terrifying experience, however, I learned a meaningful lesson regarding responsibility. During the affair, I learned that I need to be extra careful and handle Bob and anyone else I encounter with greater care. My cat escaping and getting lost made for a remarkably humbling ordeal and I hope I will never face those troubles

again.