Not Cat went out first thing, and disappeared. I searched for him, armed with a length of string, a box of treats and my jangling keys, Not a sign. Minstrel, the black and white cat from over the wall, watched me dispassionately.
Eventually, I had to leave for work. This was the first time I have left not knowing where Not Cat was.
I came home at lunchtime, half eager, half in dread. When Not Cat appeared, running across the garden, yelling at me, I felt the smile break out on my face.
After lots of head rubbing and purring, he ate. Wherever he had been, he evidently hadn’t been fed.
Then time for a good wash; reacquaintance with a Christmas toy; some naughtiness under the chair he has colonised; and a good sleep.