Munchkin Mayhem -A Holiday Cat-tastrophe

You won't believe this... it actually happened to me and even I can't believe it.

This is a Christmas tail tale with every conceivable extra topping... magic, miracles and mayhem wrapped in enchantment and enigma.

To fully comprehend this matter, one must first acquire at least a passing acquaintance with the players. They consist of Bunkie, my multiple-decade, long-distance Significant Other, myself, and a very diminutive little cat who goes by the handle of of Munchkin.

Most of you know me and therefore have at least heard a thing or two about Bunkie, but Munchkin, methinks, is a feline of another color. Actually, she happens to be a miniscule little long-haired blonde, who, though now at least a year old, weighs in at appromiately 3.75 pounds and is no bigger than a 5 month old kitten. I found her in dire straights nearly a year ago to this very day... even tinier than she is now, abandoned and alone on a frostbitten, moonless night, suffering from malnutrition and a terrible respiratory infection. I heard her plaintive, weak cries as I was coming in from a trip to the store, and followed them to her location... her wee, weeping nose and eye adhered to the frosted tundra in my back yard much as one's tongue sticks fast to frozen metal. After freeing her by pouring lukewarm water on the ground around her little face, I gathered her up and brought her inside, where I was horrified to behold not just her emaciated state ~ but that her eye had suffered irreversible injury by means of disease, frostbite, or a combination thereof. Her eye could not be saved, and for weeks I feared she, herself, might very well die. And yet, from the moment I took her into my arms, cold, wet, shivering, and deathly ill... she began to purr even as she lay, too weak to move, in my embrace

But Munchkin defied the odds. Though she never attained full size, she did gain weight, her coat grew long and lustrous ~ and her dear personality grew ever more unwaveringly loving and loyal with every passing day. Even with only one eye, she is one of the purest, swetest, most endearing little souls in all the the world.

Fast forward to the present... (in nore ways than one...)...

Two weeks prior to Christmas day last, I'd finished wrapping all of Bunkie's presents, and packed them in three large shipping boxes. A couple of his gifts were unusually shaped, and I'd utilized decorative gift bags bedecked with handmade bows to prepare them for shipment.

Those of you who know and love kitties are likely familiar with their perpetual curiosity ~ and, as with child-proofing the home when a new baby arrives on the scene, one becomes proficient at similar safety measures when in comes to our feline friends. I never close refrigerator, washer, dryer, oven, closet, cabinet, dishwasher, etc., doors without doing a visual sweep to insure one of the furbabies has not secreted themselves therein, and I keep one bedroom entirely off limits to all when doing things like... well... packing boxes to be shipped from Texas to Ohio for Christmas.

After filling all three large boxes, I visually checked each and every one before sealing them with shipping tape and affixing hand decorated mailing labels. Approximately four hours later, I carried each to my trusty little Tempo, loaded two into the back seat and lashed one into the trunk, then unloaded all three and carried each into the local Post Office, where I stood in the Christmas crush lines for at least an additional half hour before finally reaching the counter. Each box was weighed, the appropriate postage affixed, and then off-loaded from the counter to the floor behind the Postal workers stationed at the counters. During this entire time, not a single out of the oridinary sound or circumstance occured. I left the Post Office quite pleased with myself for having gotten everything done and mailed off in plenty of time to make the four day Priority Mail trek to Ohio and still be there in plenty of time for Christmas morning's dawn, came home, and shortly thereafter fell fast asleep, given that I had to be up at 4:00 AM the next morning for work.

After working a ten hour shift the next day, I returned home to discover that Munchkin was doing one of her famous disappearing acts... she, like her mother, relishes her occasional "alone time" sessions, always choosing off the beaten path locations in which to spend them. And (also as is true in her Mama's case) these sessions can last a couple of days.

Nevertheless, on the second day that Munchkin made no cheery appearance to greet me on my return, I proceeded to turn the house upside down searching for her. My panic grew as scrutiny of her past haunts proved fruitless... she simply was nowehere to be found. By the third day, I was heartsick, certain that she'd somehow slipped out the door while I was entering or egressing the house for work. I was certain that something terrible must have happened to her once outside; the strength of the bond between she and I is far too great for her to have simply run off.

The following evening, my phone rang. Upon answering, I was greeted by Bunkie's rather tenous inquiry... "Kelly, are you sitting down?"

Bunkie lives in a rural area, and on the third day after I shipped his gifts, the rural postal worker left a card on his door saying he had parcels to pick up at the Post Office. He'd sojourned to the Post Office the following morning, loaded the three boxes into his blazer, and bounced them over the river and through the snowy woods back to Bunkie Manor, where he off-loaded them, carried them in from his attached garage, and left them on his kitchen floor for several hours with the intention of unpacking them that evening. Nothing untoward occurred, nor was a sound heard, in that entire time period.

Upon opening and removing the initial few gifts from the first box, Bunkie related, he noticed protruding from one of the as yet unpacked gift bags what he assumed to be a stuffed animal. Though a bit puzzled as to why I would gift him with such a thing, Bunkie knows me well enough to deftly manage the curve balls I've a penchant for throwing him, and reached toward the stuffed animal and it's bag...

...at which time Munchkin's head popped out, regarded him with one eye, and meowed a quick, "hello, there!" Bunkie, of course, jumped a country mile, at which time Munchkin followed his lead, catapulting out of the box and prancing down his great room hallway as if she owned the joint.

Neither of us has recovered from the shock... but we have come to a conclusion reagarding what must have happened. Months ago, Munchkin did gain access to my off-limits bedroom by gliding under the door, but she'd grown since then and not repeated the behavior in quite some time. Apparently, though, she still can...

She must have gotten into the box, tunneled down through the upper packages, and then hid in the gift bad at the bottom, making herself a little nest in several pair of thick thermal socks tucked therein. And there she remained, never uttering a peep or making any attempt whatsoever to escape... for four long days in several postal centers, in a Tempo, a Blazer, and several over-the-road semi trucks and the belly of a transport plane in the holiday freight-filled skies ... and finally in Bunkie's cozy country kitchen, until Bunkie opened the biggest Christmas surprise of his entire life.

Munchkin emerged unscathed from this, her second Christmas Cat-tastrophy ~ Bunkie and I, however, may require months to make a full recovery. Now that we know she is safe, we can laugh about it... so much for homeland security when it comes to what is criss-crossing the country by mail.

And so it will be that I'll board a round-trip American Airlines flight headed for Dallas Ft. Worth -> O'Hare -> Toledo International next Tuesday to retrieve my precious little friend.

It'll be nice to see Bunkie again, too ~ .