About six months ago, we were given an adult cat from someone who rehomes them. The cat seemed rather docile and he definitely bonded with me.
We never got around to giving him a name, but he was cared for as well as we possibly could.
I was petting him as I sat on the couch the other night, as is our custom. After a while I put him on the floor so I could get up for a drink, like I have done many times before.
A couple of hours later, Hubby came over and asked where the cat was. When he wasn't under the couch (his usual go-to place) we searched all over.
No cat. Anywhere.
The only way out was a window in the laundry open enough to vent the dryer--somewhere he hadn't been before.
Strange.
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