Reflections on the Second Week of Fall

 

   George's adventure started on the evening of the supermoon lunar eclipse. Spence and I packed our bags, jumped in the truck, and dashed to Cleveland. What we didn't know was that George was exploring the deck.

    When we arrived in Cleveland we got the first clues we'd left in too much of a hurry. Spence's bag–with medicine, computer, and phone–was still at Wells Wood. He borrowed my Nexus to work on a Nonprofit Quarterly article, but the Internet was down. With my phone, he asked an AT&T representative to restart the Internet connection–no luck–so scheduled a repair appointment. Was George scratching on the log cabin door for us to let him inside?

    We walked up Rinard past quiet houses to view the supermoon half way through the eclipse. The shaded side of the moon looked gray, but a few photos had a red tinge. At the time of the total eclipse, Spence was snoring. I tiptoed to the kitchen window and peeked at the moon through the trees. The moon was totally covered with a gray shadow so I didn't bother to walk up the street in my bare feet and nightgown to get another photo. Could George see a red supermoon through Wells Wood rain clouds? Where was he sleeping?

    Monday morning, we met with our handyman to review the contract for repairs which included leveling the sidewalk, pointing, and tearing down the game room paneling so that Spence could seal cement block cracks. The AT&T man reset the Internet and installed a new control box. Spence patched cement between the house and driveway then made a trip to Home Depot for supplies. I cut shrubs away from bricks that needing pointing, painted the trim around the garage door, and painted the inside of the French doors to the porch. Was George talking to Emma through the sliding glass door on the deck?

    In the truck on our way back to Wells Woods, we headed toward a dark cloud bank in the east and ate bag dinners. What was George eating?

    As we drove under the Pennsylvania cloud bank, the skies grew dark and mist hovered over the road. Spence parked in the driveway, climbed the porch steps, and said, “What are you doing here?”

    I imagined a raccoon or squirrel on the porch, but a long merrrrrrow answered. George had been on the porch over twenty-six hours. Holes in long green leaves answered the question of what he'd eaten.

    A quiet Emma met the three of us at the door. Usually tetchy after George's short absences for vet appointments, she calmly sniffed George and let him lick her head. She accepted our hugs and purred.

George nibbled food, sniffed toys, drank water, and settled on a piece of cardboard.

    Spence told the cats, “You were brave.” He told me, “ We aren't going to leave in such a hurry next time.”