She didn't even leave a note...

First, the exciting part of the night: Penelope ran away and no one knew she was gone until our neighbor knocked on our door: "Do you have a cat"--"uh, yeah, two of them"--"I think one of them is on my parent's deck"--"Couldn't be mine (not my perfect babies)...is it gray...silver tag..."--"yeah"  "(crap)."

I could see Oliver in the kitchen acting completely nonchalant and maybe even a little happy to be the only cat. (Or did I imagine that?). When I yelled to the basement to see if Mr. S had seen her, all I got was a "huh?"  Penelope was nowhere around, but I still denied that it could be our cat.   However, when I went over there, climbed up on their deck, there she was.  Stinker.

She went to our sweet, Indian neighbors two houses down and spent the day on their deck trying to get into their house. (I should just say how sweet and fabulous this older couple is because I adore them). I went over there and boy did she yell at me! That meow sounded exactly like "what took you so long."  I kid you not.  It might have even been that many cat syllables.

I tell you what, she is a DIVA. I still have no idea how precious Penel got out of the house.  I rectified the situation immediately by giving her wet food: her favorite...just to, you know, remind her how good we are to her.  I think she realizes that because she didn't protest at all when I carried her home holding her like a baby, which she hates.

But, I'm convinced she secretly loves it.  The lady doth protest too much...and might get back at us by pooping somewhere exciting!  Of course, that's only if she feels like the evil glares aren't working well enough.  The eye daggers are working, Penelope, promise...

Hum...as a precaution to pooping, I'll be paying Penelope some extra special attention tonight.