Where's The Cat?

So...last night while we were decorating the tree, I thought I saw Sam's reflection on the glass in the back door.  As I looked closer, I realized that wasn't a reflection at all, but that Sam was actually outside on the deck! I freaked out and yelled, "Oh no!  The cat got out!"  We all scurried to the door.  Greg yelled at me, "You need to be more careful with that outside cat box!" (Yes, we actually have an outside cat box.  It's awesome...sort of).  I flung open the door only to see someone else's short haired white cat with a long black and gray striped tail jump off of the other side of the deck.  Whew.  Not Sam after all.  Nope.  Sam was happily eating Christmas ornaments under our tree.

It reminded me of something that happened to my sister in high school.  One morning, my mother saw our family cat running down the street.  Mom was never a huge fan of cats, so she didn't really give a rat's ass if the cat ran away, but Megan and I loved the cats with a passion.  Megan threw on her bathrobe and ran down Spruce Street all the way to Penn Street in a pair of slippers and with her hair wrapped up in a towel, yelling after Arnie.  When she got to the bottom of the hill, the cat was gone.  Devastated, she made her way back up the hill and shuffled into the house only to find Arnie sitting in the middle of the hallway, staring at her. The stupid cat never left the house after all.

Neither did Sam.  Hmpf.