Every night but Wednesday night. Wednesday night I heard some cat howling outside the front door and went to investigate (I have to mention here that Wednesday night was the only night that all four children slept through the night in 2 months, so I was not thrilled that the cats were crying outside). When I opened the front door, no cat came in. I saw two cats, but none came in, and I didn't wait or chase them down. I went to bed with two fleeting thoughts: kittens will come soon, or this is her first fight. You will be aghast at my callousness, but it was 2:30 AM, and I have four young children, and must therefor be excused for mid-night insensitivity to animals.
Thursday morning, I was hoping she would run in when Joe left for work. Nope. I was hoping she would cry at the door when the kids woke up. Nope. I hoped that she would come home before they noticed she was gone. Nope. I hoped they would just let the fact that she was missing pass without grief. Nope. By 10 AM, all three coherent girls were balling their eyes out.
I thought of a prayer. I told the girls that we should all kneel together and pray for Frances. I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to help Frances come home, and to take care of her if she was lost or hurt. I must confess that I didn't have a lot of hope, but I hoped that the prayer would distract the girls and calm them down. After we got up, they all said to me with tears in their eyes, "I know that Heavenly Father will help Frances come home." They had such sweet faith.
Then came my lesson. We went downstairs, and there she was, just running up to the back porch. The girls burst the door open and smothered her with love and kisses. Then we knelt down to say a prayer of thanks, and haven't lost her since.
This is a picture of Callie. She is so used to being carried around in small spaces, she prefers them now, and we find her asleep in tight spots like this frequently.
