But yesterday, there was a moment . . . .
I had gone upstairs to feed him because he still needs to be encouraged to eat. I opened the door--and no cat. Not on the bed, in the litter box, or at the food. I even checked the closet. Then my foot brushed a warm, soft mass under the bed, the same place our dear Morgan would hide when he was dying. Oh, no, I thought. What happened?
But as I knelt to check Mr. P, I noticed he was very alert, not lethargic and indifferent . . . .and then something out the window caught my eye.
A gray and white cat.
At the second floor window.
The gray and white cat, standing on the little roof of our porch to get to the window must have scared Mr. P. And now he was "waving" and "knocking" to get my attention. I closed the curtains.
See, the same cat had been at Bud's window, also above the porch, the evening before. We had called his owner, as we pulled him off the roof, to make sure he wasn't lost, but apparently he's a regular outsider and even more regularly gets into other people's houses! So, we put him back outside.
I guess he was coming back for a second visit. Well, Mr. P won't be inviting him in. Mr. P was so scared, he curled up in my arms for a few hours, head tucked. Poor thing.
I still don't get how the visitor got to the second floor. The little tree in front doesn't overhang the porch roof and is too slight to hold a cat's weight anyway. I guess he could have gone from my minivan to the garage, across to the small roof at the back of the house, under Sis's window, and then up and over the rabbit run to the front of the house and the porch roof.
But the foot prints in the snow seem to suggest he shimmied up the gutter . . . .