Last week my husband and I had a parents’ meeting at school. The kids know the rules; don’t fight, do homework, and don’t ever, ever open the doors or go outside. Especially at night.

So, imagine my surprise when I received a phone call just as the meeting started, answering only to hear the hysterical sobs of my daughter. Hysterical. I couldn’t even make out a word. I was just about to forgo the meeting and head to the car, trying to calm her down to get a few words out. Was anyone hurt? Was the house on fire? sob-sob-sob-breathe-calm-down

Finally, I was able to get some information. Barnie got outside. Argh This was upsetting and annoying, but I had to just keep a lid on it, because she was obviously upset about things. And then I am told that he escaped an hour ago, and she has been outside in the darkness, trudging through the wind and rain, trying desperately to entice Barnie out from hiding. Now, I was annoyed to learn she had been outside all of this time. breathe-breathe-breathe.

Then the rest of the story tumbled out. She found a spider in the house and thought she would ‘save’ it by putting it outside. In the time it took her to do this (I can only wonder how long the door was open), Barnie decided to check out his old haunts.

Like I said, I was ready to abandon the parents group meeting and get home to find Barnie asap. My husband calmed me down, simply by saying “It’s Barnie. He’ll be fine.” Which of course, isn’t 100% predictable, but we both agreed at least it wasn’t Quincy – he freaks outside. Barnie doesn’t.

I tried to pay attention to the meeting. We zoomed home. I jumped out of the car, sure that Barnie, sick of the wind and rain, will run up to greet me. No such luck.

So I go in the house, get geared up with boots, flashlight, and kitty food. I barely make if off the front porch when Barnie does run up to greet me. He appears happy to be scooped up and brought in the house.

He was one wet kitteh! And fastidious groomer that he is, he was not happy about that.

Let’s take a look

He was furiously grooming himself, ignoring doting family members and hissing a little at curious Quincy. His beautiful coat needed tending to. Now.

I think he stayed up all night grooming himself. The next morning, he was the softest-ever fluffball. Oh Barnie, next time promise me that you will stay inside.

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