The Search Is Over, But Not As I Hoped.

As of Monday night, I will reach the end of major combat operations. By this I mean I shall have released the fate of finding my cat, Mona, to the hope of her willing return, rather than by my own search.

For the past week I have spent almost every evening after work in my parents' neighborhood, the field behind their house, and the nearby woods searching with 75,000 candlepower flashlight and rattling her favorite toy (a plastic ball with interior bell) for some sign of her with no luck. Today I went to the Lancaster Humane League with some hope of finding her, and Sunday I will try the Harrisburg Humane Society. I expect no great reunion, but I am still in "try anything" mode, so I'll go there with a sliver of hope. Either Sunday or Monday I will make one last attempt at flyer dispertion among the homes within a 2 mile radius of my parents' house. But the exhaustion of the search of this past week has allowed me to ignore such things as bills, completion of moving into my new apartment, and this blog, among other duties. There is only so long I can put off life over the loss of a beloved pet. It is becoming time to move on.

For anyone who understands the attachment of a furry critter, I'd like to show a picture of my lost love. Her name is Ramona. Her temperment was rough playful. Her spirit could not be contained in a small apartment. So tonight my exgirlfriend/dear friend (who introduced Mona into my life) raised a toast with me to the memory of a lost companion: May she be safe. May she be happy. May she live a long and healthy life. Goodbye Mona. You will be missed.