I am the worst kitty mother in the world ever
.
Was a little surprised when Boycat didn't come for supper, but he often sleeps through. Was a little more surprised that he didn't partake in the various bed time rituals, but thought he may have been hiding in the sofa due to the very loud fireworks echoing up & down the valley.
However when he didn't leap on my bed demanding cuddles this morning I got very worried. Turned the house inside out looking in all his hiding places, even pulled the sofa away from the wall (not easy with one arm!) & checked in the lining etc - no sign of Boycat. By now I'm looking in all the places he couldn't have got into, in a total panic.
I then opened the door to the little conservatory at the back, and there was this pathetic shrunken looking kitty sitting on the cold, hard, tiled floor by the back door. I'd somehow shut him in there early evening
, despite me always giving a quick check round before I close the door and him normally fleeing out of there if I come in.
We've been having non-stop cuddles since I found him, and he seems fine, but the guilt is eating me up.