by Renee Asher

Created on: September 12, 2008

I had an extremely rough day. I stumbled and grumbled through the front door and directly out the back to have a cigarette just to calm down, then found myself apologizing to my roommate for being so unpersonable. I told her I just needed a moment to recover and get past it, and...oh, by the way...where is my cat? I was wanting to snuggle, my adorable, soft, loving orange tabby to make myself feel better.

We looked all over the house, and my cute, loving, but just a little fat, orange tabby is nowhere to be found. This is bad. This is very bad. My cute, but sometimes stupid, loving, fat orange tabby is an inside cat. Last time he got out he stayed out for four days and was literally rescued from under a car he found and stayed under for protection and comfort. So I go back out to the deck, which luckily has a decent view of the block around the corner from our home.

I can't believe my eyes! My stupid, delinquent, frustrating, fat, orange thing is there, under the SAME CAR laying back and enjoying life! So my roommate and I slip on shoes and run around the corner to him. She reaches the car first and goes to grab him, and he backs up further under the car, and I get around just in time to see him...

SLIP INTO THE SEWER GRATE! I barely had time to yell "no!" before he had dropped into the manhole portion and into a tunnel from which he looked out at us, smugly (I swear it was smugly). We spent near fifteen minutes trying to lure him from his new sewer play house with food and toys, with no success. He once attempted to jump out, but slid back down, convincing me that he was unable to make the jump.

So we remove the manhole cover, thinking I could dip my upperbody into the hole and retrieve him. Somehow all I accomplish is a possible concussion from banging my head on the metal reinforcement around the hole, and scaring the cat further into his hole. More coaxing commences. Finally, I realize I am just going to have to get into the sewer. Yes, I said, "get into the sewer". The things we will do for the pets I am convinced conspire against us for our own amusement.

The "man hole" was really only big enough for a small five year old, and full of really, really dirty, unidentifiable things. I heard a frog croaking somewhere that sounded near by, but there was no way to tell where it was. I set to coaxing, and luring my cat from his new home in the tunnel, but he was having no part of it, at some point, as I lowered myself into the hole, he ventured further into the tiny, dark tunnel. As I raised my head to ask my roommate to get me a flashlight, I bumped my head again, and swore (not for the first time during this adventure).

The flashlight revealed that my ignorant, stupid, idiot of a cat had traveled about a half block up inside a tunnel I could have never even fit my shoulders into. I raised myself out of the hole, convinced that this would be a days long practice, because, after all, he couldn't get out all by himself, and obviously wasn't currently interested in my help.

As I slid the manhole cover back in place, the dumb, fat, nasty, mean, idiot cat pops effortlessly out of a sewer grate down the street!

Needless to say, he was in need of cleaning. So I cleaned him, and set to being in an even worse mood, nursing the lump on my head and ignoring that malicious animal.

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