Puddy in the Wind

ADDENDUM - The story below took a twist this afternoon when it became clear that the RIP cat I brought home this morning is not actually our cat. I was really sure it was. A detailed inspection showed some differences in its markings and no TNR ear snip.  I'll leave the words below up for now, if only as a record of my ongoing stupidity. Sorry for taking those of you who read it and were taken on a rather misguided emotional journey.  

Puddy is still missing and I intend to search with continued dedication, to hopefully find her and bring her back home. 

And if you're missing a cat that looks a bit like her, please let me know.

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Puddy had been in the wind for nine days, as of this morning.

She didn’t turn up for her evening rendezvous in the armchair, on the Friday before last, like she always would. We didn’t think anything much of it. Puddy has always been an outdoors cat, who would only come in at the times that suited her, which was every day but only on her own strict terms. An evening of telly watching, a five hour daytime snooze in the hall basket, an overnighter whenever the mousing was slow.

So this morning made it a full nine days since she had been around. And I had a blog post all written about how cats seem to become quite mysterious and otherworldly after they go away. It wasn’t a terribly bad post.

But Puddy always had her own plans.

One feature of her years with us was her uncanny ability to subvert whatever we were just about to do. Late for work? In a rush? Puddy would turn up, needing something urgently. It was a given.

So I should have known that Puddy might retain the power to undermine my intentions one more time, just for Auld Lang’s syne.

As well as notifying the neighbourhood of her absence, and hanging her blanket out on the clothes line, I had been monitoring the notifications on all the ‘missing cat’ forums, and I’d been to visit a few sad roadside tableaus in the past few days, always pretty sure that our lass wouldn’t be found there.

But this morning’s one felt different.

Not only because the description seemed right, but also because of that aforementioned penchant for the disruption of best laid plans. My blog post about her continued absence was ready to hit ‘send’ on. What better moment for dear Puddy to shake things up, one last time?

So, with a rather heavy heart, and with apologies for getting nine paragraphs in (a paragraph for every day) without saying this, Puddy, alas, shuffled off her mortal coil last night. I retrieved her from a bridge down in the centre of town early this morning. Unmarked. Almost sleeping, but not quite. A swipe from a car the most likely cause, as she looked both strong and clean. I guess she got lost out on her travels, and hadn’t managed to wind her way home, as she had done several times before.

Many words have been written by me about Puddy in these pages. Our early battles, kittens, giving shelter, growing mutual involvement, coming into our home and our lives. I’ve enjoyed setting it all down and I’ve enjoyed being a part of it all unfolding. Our consolation will be that, from the moment we chose to look out for her, Puddy got to lead her own personal best life. Never wanting for food, warmth, care, or company. Never prevented from wandering free in her compact little neighbourhood, stalking, skulking, or just dozing in the sun.

She brought a considerable quantity of elegance and attitude into our lives, and after I became her friend, I was never not happy to see her coming. It will be a while before I stop glancing to my front door to see if that familiar brilliant white flash is out there beyond the glass.

Puddy has been in the wind for the last nine days and she will remain in the wind now, I guess.

It doesn’t matter at all that the only time I ever managed to touch her was when I gathered her up in her blanket and drove her back home this morning.

She managed to touch me every day.

 

Puddy - ? – September 2025