This evening Mom and I had a head-leg collision in the kitchen. There I was, racing through the kitchen, when Mom abruptly decides to turn toward the refrigerator, and her leg gets right in the way of my oncoming head! Smash! It was awful. I didn't cry or anything (I AM a big mancat, of course), but, boy, did I see stars! Mom complained that her leg hurt, the impact was so hard. She hoped I didn't have a concussion or something. I just went into the living room behind the big chair and rested for a while.
When I came out and lay in the middle of the room, she came over to apologize and make a fuss over me. I'm okay, but I lay the guilt trip on her, and she had to give me some of the yummy salmon filet that she and Dad had for dinner. I think my head feels okay now, but don't tell her. I may be able to get a few extra treats out of this episode.
I've learned that under the table is one safe place to be when Mom is preparing dinner.
P.S. from Mom: Jake, I'm very sorry that my leg obstructed your speedway tonight. I'll try to look both ways before crossing the kitchen the next time.
Also, Bathsheba painted a rather harsh picture of me in the previous post. I wouldn't give up on her in just a few months. I would just give up on an active search. If she were gone that long, I might figure that she found a new family to love. I would certainly think the best if no evidence to the contrary presented itself.