I have some heartbreaking news to share: Eddie has disappeared and I don’t think he’s coming home.
My sweet kitten Eddie – you know, the one you all helped me name Edgar Allan Poe – is gone.
He went missing last Friday, and for a nervous little guy who never strayed far from home (or his best pal Hemingway), the fact that he has been missing for five days gives me little hope that he will return.
The last time I saw Eddie was Friday morning when I put him and Hemi outside before I headed to Fort Worth.
When I returned early that afternoon, Hemi was waiting by the back door, but there was no sign of Eddie.
I wasn’t worried at first; I figured he was taking a nap in the bushes and would start meowing for dinner when he woke up.
But he never did.
We’ve spent the past several days calling neighbors and searching for our little guy, but he seems to have disappeared into thin air.
The thought that he is out there alone - lost, hungry or hurt - has made me physically sick, and Hemi isn’t taking it well either.
The poor guy can barely eat, refuses to go outside and will hardly leave my side. He is so depressed.
If you have any suggestions on how I can help Hemi cope with the loss of his best buddy, I’m all ears.
Watching him suffer has been almost as painful as losing Eddie.
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