Mozart Mondays

In an attempt to be a more organized and informative blogger, I've been thinking about some ways to revamp my content. Currently, I write about what I feel like, when I feel like it, and lately I feel as if I've really lost any sense of direction or cohesiveness — or maybe this blog never had those things. 


Either way, I've come up with a few "themes" for posts, based on the things I seem to write about the most, including: my cat, Meryl Streep, books, movies, travel, Blue Carrot shop news and vintage (or other) inspiration. I hope this is will be a good way to keep me on task, and help keep things fresh.


Today will be the very first "Mozart Monday", to be alternated every week with "Meryl Mondays" — because who doesn't like alliteration and cat photos?*

The day I lost Mozart (for an hour).

I've had my share of pets in my 26 years and I'd never lost a single one. We even had outdoor cats that would go on daily adventures, but the cats always (sometimes even regrettably) came back. Mozart is very much an indoor cat — she has no front claws and generally zero interest in venturing beyond the many comforts of home. But a few weeks ago, inexplicably, she was gone.

We had gone to breakfast on a Sunday morning and upon returning home I started to clean the house. It wasn't until about a half hour later that I noticed something was off — Mozart usually follows me like a shadow, and I hadn't seen her all day.

I checked all of the usual hiding spots — under the beds, behind the couch, in the spare bedroom, and no Mozart. I called her name, rattled her food dish, threw a few toys, and still no Mozart. We don't exactly live in a palace, so I checked and rechecked every room and within a few minutes I knew she couldn't be hiding.

And then I slowly started to panic. I've never loved a cat as much as I love Mozart — there are few people for whom I even feel anything remotely similar. I began to search outside, checking our busy street and hoping that was the one place she wouldn't turn up. I felt the tears start to come as I called her name, louder and louder.

I was just about to go into the back yard, when I heard a meow. The unmistakable Mozart Meow, coming from behind a pile of junk in our garage. I bent down and could barely see her, meowing uncontrollably, crouched in safety from the terrors of the outside world.

We pulled her out (no amount of coaxing was going to get her out on her own) and brought her in the house — her whiskers were dusty but otherwise she was perfectly fine. I later discovered that the window I had opened (and then closed) in the morning had no screen in it, and she must have jumped out. Or she was pushed by our jealous, uglier cat Fizzy (The Other One), which is the version of events that I'm most inclined to believe.

"The Other One"

Either way, once she got out she obviously panicked, and headed straight into the garage, terrified of, instead of interested in, the world. I was so glad when I found her, not only that she was safe, but that she had shown zero interest in exploration. I no longer have to worry about her getting hit by a car or cat-napped — I know now that if she ever gets out again, she'll stay as close to home and as out of harm's way as she can manage.

When we found her my man was relieved as well, but more for my sake. He looked at her, then back at me and said "I'm so glad we found her. I was thinking, "Allie isn't going to be able to handle this."'

*This blog is pretty much all alliteration and cat photos.