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 There he was....just as I had envisioned his arrival.

  He had fallen out a window through a loose screen, six feet to the ground.  I wasn't aware of his disappearance until I finished watching a movie and went into the room where is known to perch for hours gazing out the window. I called for him with no response. I began to panic, looking in every square inch of my home calling his name over and over. I noticed the screen in 'his' window was missing.  I ran outside and looked everywhere, calling his name, tears streaming down my face. Had I come all this way to lose him was the question that I was asking myself. 

 I spent the night siting outside watching for him. It was the next night that I saw him run across the lane from my home, toward the neighbor next to me. He was sitting under the vehicle in the driveway.  I went inside my home, opened a can of tuna and went to the driveway where he sat.  I was wary of approaching him to quickly, knowing I would scare him away. I knelt down calmly calling him by the 'pet' name I had given him, moving slowly toward him.  I was within four feet and he came out from under the car and paced back and forth making a sound I have never heard. I believe that sound was 9one of hope enveloped in terror.  I moved within arms length of him and set the can of tuna down on the driveway. He was sniffing the air that was filled with the smell of tuna. He began walking to the can and when he reached it, in a brief desperate attempt to have him back with me, I grabbed for him.  I missed.  Through tear filled sobs of sadness and regret, I saw him run. I sat on that driveway with my with my hands covering my face, sobbing.  

Night after night I walked the small neighborhood with a flashlight calling for him, looking under every car and shrub.  I bought humane cages but he had outsmarted the exit door and escaped.  He never entered any of them again. I was frantic I feared I would never hold him again. 

 I had enlisted the help of9 my small community. It was heart warming to see these people come together to help me find my precious kitty.  Then something odd happened.  Tommie, the neighbor across the lane from me, mentioned he had seen my kitty sitting on the step outside my door, as if waiting to p9be let inside. This gave me an idea; if I could leave the door ajar he may enter.  I put every enticing thing in that entry way. His favorite blanket, his favorite foods, even his litter box. Then I bought a couple of baby monitors. I positioned them so I could see him at two different angles.  I wrapped a thin rope around the door knob and draped it through the entry way into the living room.  I taped the end to the top of the chair so when he did come in, I could quietly reach up and pull the door closed. Night after night, for three weeks solid I watched the monitor, seeing him poke his head up into the doorway, eating the food I put on the step outside. 

 I imagined him, without hesitation, stepping into the entry way, walking through that room, ignoring all the things I put out to entice him in there. I saw him walk through the sliding glass door that remained open the entire time, and into the liv9ing room where I sat waiting to pull the door closed.  Three weeks of watching him come and go, searching everywhere, seeing him laying on the driveway next door, knowing there was nothing I could do to retrieve him.  He had to come to me. His nonchalant walk through the entry way, past the glass doors and into the living room was on a constant loop in my head. Counterproductivke sadness, guilt and regret also occupied my thoughts.

Then, there he was. I was looking at the monitor, watching him walk through the entry way, past the glass doors and into the living room.  It was exactly how I had seen him in my thoughts. I sat staring at it, was this really happening? He was behind the chair I sat in, I froze not believing what I was seeing. I suddenly remembered the rope I had taped to the top of the chair. I reached up those six inches and pulled. The door slammed shut and I heard a scream from my sweet kitty.  I calmly walked to the door, keeping the rope taught.  I pulled the door closed.  He was safe, he was behind the couch crying.  I stood in the center of the room doing the same thing.  It took him a bit of coaxing to come to me. He remained at my side for weeks afterwards. Never letting me out of his sight.

My whole point of this event in my life is to share how powerful our thoughts are.  I imagined him walking into his home the exact way that he actually did.  If my doubts and fears weren't added to this, his arrival would have been sooner. Let's not forget the coincidence of Tommie telling me what he saw in the wee hours of the morning.  Serendipity, fortunate accidents. Tommie and my continuing loop of my kitty's walk into his home brought him back to me. I brought him to me.  He is the proof that our thoughts are our reality.

The more you think about something the more you draw it to you.