if you wanna sing out...

This weekend, Jasper Jones (aka mister la mouche mouche, little beeber, nuzzlebee), got lost. I know, there aren't a lot of nooks and crannies in my apartment, and the kid wasn't in hiding. We literally could not find him. To the point of plastering "Missing: Reward" flyers on telephone poles throughout my neighborhood and using flashlights to look under cars (you know Jasper would be scared out in the streets of Philadelphia, particularly since he isn't exactly an outdoor cat). At 5:30am, after working on our Jasper rescue strategy for the past 5 hours (thank you to Dave, my lovely assistant flyer paster), we put cat food outside the front and side doors and called it quits. The phone rang the next morning and I sprung out of bed, hoping it was someone who had found little Jasper. Nada. Just a friendly neighbor cat lover who expressed her sympathies and told me she'd be looking for my kitty.

Though I hadn't totally given up hope, I didn't really think that after 10 hours in the dark and 3 hours of rain Jasper would be able to find his way home. While at a friend's house in King of Prussia, I got a call. Dave, my screener of all incoming cat-inquiries, called to say that Jasper had been located. I'm pretty sure I yelped. As I said, I seriously didn't figure that I'd ever see little Jones again. Yeah, apparently, a new guy moved into our building and Jasper, in his explorations, wandered into the open door and couldn't get out (the guy deadbolted the door). The next morning, the new tenant, highly allergic to cat, prodded Jasper into the hallway. Thankfully, Dave went over and one of my fellow building mates opened the door for him. When I found the two of them, they were sitting in my hallway outside my apartment door. Dave was reading the New York Times and little Jasper, in happiness of finding familiarity once again, nuzzled Dave to the point of covering his t-shirt with cat hair. You could say I am one happy bopper to have little Jasper Jones home safe and sound.