The Fugitive

I just got back from running to the grocery store. My bags were rather heavy, so it took a minute or two to bring them in. Once in, I proceeded to tidy up a bit. After five minutes, I thought I heard Ramona meowing. She has this “I’m about to die” meow she employs once in awhile. But it seemed too distant to be coming from my apartment. So I figured it was a cat outside.

But still: distant meow. short pause. distant meow. short pause. distant meow. short pause. distant meow. short… you get the idea.

So I went looking for Monkey, thinking she must be in the farthest room—my bedroom. Checked, couldn’t find her anywhere.

And still: distant meow. short pause. distant meow…

On a hunch, I opened up my front door.

And there was Ramona.

Huge tail, wide eyes. The idiot had apparently wandered out into the hallway as I was taking in groceries. She’s never done that before.

And I dare say she won’t do that again.