Lost and Found: Five Weeks Without Henry

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The Day Everything Changed On August 17, 2019, I put my cat in his harness and began walking down the driveway with him, as I did almost daily. We lived a few blocks from the main road, on three-quarters of an acre, and there was rarely any traffic on our street, let alone the alley at the end of our driveway. But on that day, someone driving an early 1980s vintage boat of a sedan happened by. Startled, my cat took off like wildfire, jumping over the stone wall and out of my sight (I am legally blind). Within three minutes, a thunderstorm came through and it rained steadily for the next three days. I was devastated, and my son and boyfriend were riling me out for not having a better grip on his leash. How could I have known this was going to be a day unlike every other day? How could I have known that despite calling Animal Control for help right away, I wasn’t going to see my cat again for another five weeks? This can happen to anyone at any time. Our home being surrounded by woods and Henry still in harness and dragging his leash behind was bad enough. The fact that colder days were coming made my fears even worse. Microchips and Missing Cats One of the first things I did when I adopted him was having him microchipped. But I know how we cat people can be when a hungry kitty shows up in our yard. We’ll take him in and not even think about checking for a chip. But that is one of the very first things we should do, especially when the cat is more than a little approachable. That’s a clear-cut sign he’s a stray. Chances are very great in this day and age that if you go to the social networking service, Nextdoor, or the PawBoost-powered Facebook page, you’ll find his mommy or daddy is looking for him. I remember pleading with readers that if they lived within a mile or so from the used car lot down on the main road, and they had him or had seen him, to call, text, or message me. And I remember the morning, five weeks later, that I heard a neighbor a few lots over say, “Oh, kitty,” as a dark blotch darted out her door. It was about fifteen hours later, while my son and I were sitting out on the side deck, watching a dozen deer graze in the front yard, when we heard it—the blood-curdling, mournful cry of a cat. It was my Henry—physically weak, but emotionally strong enough to brave the wild and dark. The Search: Every Detail Counts Here is what I know: CHECK EVERYWHERE. Animal Control, garages, sheds, basements, crawl spaces, under decks, inside window wells, behind appliances, anywhere a scared cat might wedge themselves and stay quiet. Look under tarps, boats, porches, woodpiles, and thick shrubs. Use a flashlight even during the day—eyes reflect light and you might spot a glint. Ask your neighbors directly to check their garages and sheds. Don’t assume they will unless you make the request. Some cats get trapped when a door is shut behind them. DO NOT leave out the litter box. That old advice still gets passed around, but it can attract predators and territorial cats. It might do more harm than good. Put something familiar outside—a piece of your unwashed clothing, or your cat’s bedding. That scent can help guide them home. Use smelly food—tuna, sardines, or warmed wet food—placed in the early morning and at dusk. If possible, monitor it with a trail cam to see what visits. Make flyers with a clear photo and post them around your neighborhood, vet offices, pet stores, and any local bulletin boards. Post online—Facebook lost pet groups, Nextdoor, Craigslist, anywhere local people might see it. Use a humane trap if you suspect they’re nearby but hiding. Bait it with tuna or rotisserie chicken and check it often. Search at night. Cats tend to hide silently during the day but move around when it’s quiet. Walk slowly, shake a treat bag or tap a food can, then stop and listen. Don’t give up. Cats go into survival mode. Henry was gone five weeks and came back dirty, thin, and with a bad cold—but alive. Never Give Up Hope I don’t know if Henry was the kitty my neighbor was calling out to, but I never saw his harness and leash again. But since neighbors had reported seeing him without them a week or so earlier, and the harness was a breakaway, I suspect they were lost in the woods. I believe he survived because he was born to a feral barn cat and was one himself for his first seven months of life. But I also know that the 17-year-old declawed cat that my grandmother adopted after his human parents passed away came home in better shape than Henry did. And he was lost for five weeks, too. My point? Never give up hope. Some cats that have been gone eight years have been reunited with their parents. Always—always scan for a microchip. Animal Control is always willing to do that.