PK is M.I.A.

There is nothing worse than not knowing.  My kitten (just over a year old) is missing.  I last saw her Friday evening.  My neighbor reports she thought she saw her Saturday morning across the street.  Two squirrels (something new in our California neighborhood) were taunting her from the tree.  Until then, I figured she had simply wandered off and was visiting neighbors as she often has done.  Of course, she has never been gone more than one night.  Now its three going on four.

Not knowing is very difficult.

I am generally optimistic.  Having found no kitten parts, I can assume she is still alive somewhere.  She is very pretty and very friendly in her way.  Someone could have just picked her up.  I did.  When she was just about eight weeks old, I found her at the Riverside Plaza in the hedges on the west side of Forever 21 (formerly Harris'/Gottshalk's Department Store).  She was crying. It was 7am.  The dogs were very concerned.  We picked her up.  We brought her home.  We adopted her into our lives and times.

We named her Plaza Kitty--PK for short.

Now she is missing.  How does one sit with that?  I know she is just a cat.  No, she is our cat.  She has a personality and a history (albeit short) with us here.  How does one sit with not knowing?  I think about those news reports where people have gone missing and I cannot even begin to imagine that torture that comes with not knowing.

Not knowing is just plain hard.  Even the worst answers with verified certainty are better than what the mind can conjure up.

And yet, I comfort myself with the belief that she is okay.  She may come home.  She may not.  Not knowing, it is easier to think of the better possibities than to dwell on the worse.  Is my glass always half full rather than half empty?  I guess this tells me that it is.

Still, not knowing is far more worse than anything I can imagine.

PK come home.