The afternoon Baht disappeared

For about six hours last Thursday, I could not find Baht, my seven-year-old Siamese. She had slipped out through a gap in the balcony screen while the delivery man was at the door. I walked the soi in Nimman calling her name until the street lights came on, feeling foolish and then scared.

I printed a photo with her blue eyes and taped it to the lamp posts. A neighbour from the guesthouse on the corner brought a bowl of tuna and sat with me on the curb. People I had never spoken to offered to keep looking. Nobody made me feel silly for crying.

Around nine, I heard a faint meow from under a parked pickup two houses away. She was filthy, hungry, and furious, but unhurt. She let me pick her up without a fight, which told me how frightened she had been.

Now the screens are fixed, and I check them twice a day. A lost cat is rarely far away, but it can feel like it. I am grateful for every kind stranger on that soi.