Still no Bailey. I hate to say it, because I really loved that cat, but I almost forgot about all accommodations we had to make just to keep her out of trouble. All the bread had to be put in a cabinet. She ate all of our fruits and vegetables and houseplants and flowers and fake flowers and she was always trying to get out of the house so bringing groceries into the house was a huge pain. She was constantly in your face or on your lap, and while it is nice to have a snuggle buddy in the dead of winter it was wholly unpleasant in the height of summer. Sometimes she peed in our towels or dirty socks and underwear. That gets expensive because I am not of the ilk that keeps something around if it has ever been peed on. You can't ever get that smell out. She hogged all the food and water, leaving poor Tyler with scraps. Sometimes she bit through plastic just to see if there was anything edible in there. Then she puked it. She was not lazy, and made her way into everything every day. She wouldn't leave our guests alone. Some people like that, most get creeped out.
Jake has asked about her a few times, but we took a cue from Jori and said that Bailey is on an adventure. Apparently "adventure" is a pretty popular concept to the two year old set. Everything here is an adventure, shopping adventures, walking adventures, eating adventures, driving adventures, toothbrushing adventures, it's like the only way to get a toddler excited about doing mundane crap. Saturday afternoon, when we got dumped on my hurricane remnants, Jake asked if Bailey took an umbrella when she went on her adventure. He ran to his window last night to holler a "g'night Bailey! See ya later! Be careful!". That was painful. They were best buddies because Jake likes to poke and pull at things and Bailey accepts any sort of attention without complaint.
Tyler walks through the house making a horrid mrrrowrrorrr sound. She usually has the cutest mew. She is hiding less, and wanting more attention from me. I forgot how needy Tyler was before we got Bailey. I used to find it endearing, now I'm a bit overwhelmed but I can't say no because she lost her sister.
I've heard a ton of stories about cats coming back in three days, in three months, being spotted in a neighbor's window after three years, blah blah blah. Whatever. We had a good eight or nine years with that crazy cat. I always felt like I was borrowing her from the world anyway, and I guess my turn with her was up. I'll still whistle out the back door each night, but I'm pretty sure it is all for naught.