There is quite the story of our dearly beloved Mr. Bigglesworth (aka Biggy, Biggs, Bigoozy, Biggy Smalls). Carter surprised me with the gift of kitty newly into our marriage (despite his lack of love for the feline friends). I smothered that little thing with love even though we quickly learned he was possessed. He had a knack for biting off fingers and going for your achilles tendon as you walked by him. Nevertheless, I loved him dearly. When I became pregnant, Biggs hit the road for 2 weeks. He's a boy cat...and boy cats need to do some explorin' every once in a while. Just don't go explorin' and not tell your preggers momma because then she looks like a fool walking the neighborhood EVERY DAY 3 times a day shaking a can of treats and boohooing like a baby...or like a hormonal pregnant woman. Carter prayed earnestly for that cat to return so as to have his wife back. And return he did...with a vengeance...and even crazier than before (I've assumed something traumatic happened during those 2 weeks but not even counseling has worked to get Biggy Smalls to open up about it).
Post baby, big shift. Biggs is thrown asunder (or outside) because a kitty germ might touch our baby...and that could not happen. He has continued to be an outdoorsy cat, only allowed to sleep in the garage.
Once upon a yesterday, the kiddos wanted to play with Bigoozy (actually they just squeal at him and then run when he swipes the claws at them...not real fun, but it passes the time). So we went on a Biggles hunt. We searched high and low, backyard and front, in the bushes and up the trees. No Biggy. Giving up, we came inside. Seconds later we hear Little Brother saying his new word "Biggy, Biggy, Biggy" with much excitement. Aw, that's cute...he can say Biggy. Oh, wait, that's a little too much excitement. Coming into Sister's room, we see Brother has ended the hunt. What the crud? Cat snuck in at some point during the day - or yesterday? - and has had a nice lounge with Elmo and friends. Pardon us, Biggs, didn't mean to intrude.