Missing

Bussie went missing on Tuesday evening, having injured his back leg. He came down and told us about it, of course, yowling vociferously. We had a good look at it, and it didn’t look broken – just sprained. But he was obviously in pain, poor thing, and curled up on the bunks in the hall (his favourite place) and had his tea brought to him. I had to go out to a meeting later but Pip kept checking him - and suddenly he was gone.

He hasn’t been seen since, and this isn’t a wandering cat, but a spoilt only son. He always comes home for meals, adores his creature comforts.

Himself says, ‘He’ll be back in the morning/evening/lunchtime,’ repeating it like a mantra. I'm silent, feeling sick, my imagination working overtime.

Meanwhile we patrol the streets like ghosts, calling and calling him, dropping leaflets into neighbouring houses as it got dark last night. I've rung the local radio station, been to the vets, told all our friends nearby. We come home and look at the bunks, accusingly empty. His bowl of biscuits, untouched.

What really worries me is that he’s in pain and alone - I can’t bear to think of any animal, particularly my Bussie, suffering. Where on earth is he?