Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I swear it was him! I was driving home from the gym and saw a big fat orange tabby sitting on a homeless man's cart. I almost ran myself off the road trying to get a good look to see if it was him, but thankfully my brain told me to steer straight and keep going.
And then I started to cry. My homeless cat, who we've long boasted is our home protection agent, is living with a homeless man in Monterey. I called Austin to tell him and he said that when I got home we could all go back and see if it was Reagan. I got home, he had Reagan's carrier in hand, and off we went.
Ok. Pause. Let's think this through. What on earth did I expect to happen? We were going to walk up to a homeless man, demand he give us his cat, load the 25 pound beast of an animal (he may be pushing 30 now) into a Carrier and take him home? As if he remembers me? As if he wants to live with me??? After all, he did run away to begin with.
And what about diseases? Health issues? Reintegrating animals? And how on earth did I think we'd convince a homeless man (likely mentally unstable) that the cat was, in fact, mine?
Clearly we didn't think all of that through as we drove back to the scene of the sighting.
As we drove up we saw the man covering the cat with a blanket. Austin did have a moment of clarity as he pointed out the likelihood that it was not Reagan. He was basing this solely on the fact that the cat was sitting...still...on a cart. Reagan wasn't one to be contained. But, maybe he was drugged? Yes - that was my argument back. It must be Reagan because how many 25 pound orange tabbies live in Monterey? It can only be one.
So Austin opened his wallet and said 'ok. If it's Reagan I can offer him 25 bucks and hope he gives him up'. What a husband...he was willing to empty his wallet for a cat he never even liked. Anything to stop the tears, I'm sure.
He got out of the car, approached the man, and not 15 seconds later he was back in the car. He said he had asked the man what kind of cat it was, the man said North American. He then asked if he could see it and the man responded, 'I really can't, I've got to get back to my program' as he pointed to his headphones.
How rude!!!! And yet, what did I expect? I cried most of the way home and wished I had just never seen the cat. Maybe it was Reagan, maybe it wasn't, but it sure wasn't mine. Would I have been wrong to try to take it? Or just stupid for thinking a homeless man would choose $25 over his pet?
I miss my Reagan beagan. If it was him, I'm at least glad to know he has someone who loves him...and sort of takes care of him.
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