Can you imagine the horror of taking your pet on vacation only to end up losing it?
That’s what happen to me—on my honeymoon—when microchipping was not yet available. I had only my powers of ingenuity and tenacity to help locate the missing cat—or so I thought…
My husband and I put our two Persian cats, Channel and Camalot, into the rented camper and headed out on our honeymoon. We took the hour and a half ferry trip from Vancouver Island, Canada, then drove six hours to Lake Chelan, Washington.
As we set up camp, we put the cats into their harnesses and tied their leashes to the picnic table – but the next time we turned around, Camalot was nowhere to be seen. He had somehow wiggled free of his harness, which now lay empty and lifeless on the ground. This shy, gentle cat had been raised in a cage by a breeder; he was not prepared to fend for himself in the wild.
We spent our entire honeymoon walking around the town calling, “Liver, liver, liver,” because it was Camalot’s favorite treat and he always came when we called “liver.”
But not this time.
We wandered the streets day and night going from the radio station, to the newspaper office, to local schools, searching and telling people about the missing kitty. Eventually, everyone in town knew of our missing cat.
Three days after he “evaporated,” we had done everything humanly possible to find him. Our “vacation” had run out and it was time to return home to our jobs.
Exhausted on the darkened streets at 4 a.m., knowing that it was our last chance to find Camalot, it was obvious that locating him was out of our hands. So, I passed my heart into the hands of fate and said, “Dear God, If you are really out there, if you really exist, please show me where my cat is.”