Ducks in my yard, lead to adventures

When I got my coffee this morning, I noticed this handsome couple sleeping in my front yard. Something about Billings seems to draw in the ducks. There are ducks everywhere, in couples, in bromances, in threesomes. Every now and then, a pair takes refuge in my yard. (You can see the lawn is getting green, yet there is still snow in the upper left!) I grabbed my SLR and went out to photograph them (this image was done with the phone; editing RAW files takes time!). Satisfied, I went back in, grabbed my bag, and headed to work.

When I got home, neither cat greeted me at the door, which was strange. Usually they do. After I put my bag down, Dharma (my little blue-gray cat) came out, blinking I had caught her by surprise. Delighted, I ran around the house trying to find where she had spent her day. Sure enough, there was a warm spot next to my pillow in bed. Awww.

I still didn't see Torah (my 18-lb. dark-gray and white cat), but he is less likely to jump up from a nap. I made myself a salad and went out to the front stoop to sit in the sun and eat it. The snow was mostly gone, and it had warmed up. My salad was awesome: red lettuce, grape tomatoes, and fresh mozzarella.

Another half-hour went by when I realized I still hadn't seen Torah. It was strange. So I started to look for him. In the closet? No (what a mess of shoes). In the cupboard? No (still more cupboards than things to put in cupboards). In the office? In the sunroom chair? In the basement? No. I was calling his name, calling "kitty kitty" and, in the basement, resorted to shaking the food box rigorously. Torah? Kitty kitty?!

As I gave up on the basement, and turned to go, I heard the tiniest noise, like a rustle. Not a Torah noise, but something. Was he in the litter box? No. I called him again. Then, the tiniest squeek of a "Meh" (which is what his voice sounds like. Despite his impressive size, his voice never grew larger than a runt kitten's). I looked around; no cat. Then I looked up at the basement window (which faces a shed, so has a textured applique). The blurry, dark silhouette could be nothing else than Torah, standing in the basement window well. I rushed outside, realizing he must have gotten out during my duck-photo-shoot, wondering if he was in a fight, or hurt, or covered in mud; amazed he wasn't dead in the street (indoor, declawed kitties have a bad rap for being vulnerable). Torah waited patiently in the basement well for me to get him, looking curious as I called him, occasionally inquiring "Meh?"

I gave him a pile of cat treats. Hopefully, he will remember them if he gets out again, and stay in the yard, like he did today. I considered looking for his warm spot, but decided not to imagine his adventures.