No, a happy ending of a different type – involving a pussy. Err... make that a cat. Under different circumstances, I would not be making this post at all, but things have turned out for the best.
Remember back to the cats on a temperate concrete roof? No? Well here it is. I was awakened at Oh Dark Thirty yesterday morning by the most piteous cries. (This being about ten minutes before I naturally wake up. As an aside, I really should try to do something about that. I'm on Permanent Vacation, yet I'm up and going before 0530, if not 0500, every frickin' day. What's up with that?!) I open the bedroom window and look down, and what do I see? Yep, there's a cat down there. Give it some time, and I figured, when the sun comes up, el gato will figure something out and get out. I mean, it's a cat, right?
I ignore the piteous cries and head out for a run, figuring by the time I return, he'll be out and gone. When I return and peer out the window, I'm greeted with an upturned schmoo face and meowing with gusto. (The run was great, thanks for asking!)
What to do? I can't get down to where he is because locked doors, and no access. (Yes, an assumption on my part writing "he." But to be fair we all know it's the males of every species of mammal that are that stupid) I don't know the people who "own" the cats - like anyone actually owns a cat - and, frankly I'm pretty fucking unable to communicate in the native language here.*
I thought about it for a few minutes and realized I could contact my AirBnB host, and they'll know what to do! So I do. And I hear nothing, except for continued crying from below my window.
I leave, I return. Still nothing. I peer out the window. Yep, el gato is still there.
I leave again. I return. Silence. I can't bear the thought of looking, so I don't. After an hour or so, I'm thinking "It's all good, he's made it out." Immediately, a pitiful yowl. Shit.
I send another message to my host, since the first one was unanswered. I hear nothing back. I'm thinking, "Am I going to have to listen to this poor cat fucking DIE outside my window?!" I debate sending a nasty message to that end to the host if I haven't heard back by morning.
Long about 11:00 I get a message back from Georgio: he's contacted the authorities, and they'll be along the next day to rescue the cat. YAY! I may have been reassured, but el gato hadn't gotten the memo just yet and kept up the noisemaking. So, instead of trying to sleep in the bedroom, I close the door, and turn in on the couch in the living room, with the TV on, so I can't hear his cries. Turns out, the couch is more comfortable than the bed. I think I'll spend the rest of my time in Arrecife on the couch.
After getting up before the dawn, again, I putter around, and head out for a run. It had been silent all morning. Good news? Bad news? Silence isn't necessarily golden in this case. After returning, I finally get up the courage to take a look. I raise the blind, I slide open the window, and I peer down. NO CAT! I don't know if he was rescued or if he figured a way out after thirty-some odd hours, but he was gone. As a result, I can safely make this post, because I'm not facing the horror of listening to a cat slowly die over the course of the next few days. Given other shit going on, I'm latching oh-so-tightly on this bit of positive news like a life preserver in a tsunami.