Tucker And The Attic

Tucker is a three year old beautiful Main Coon cat. We adopted him after I saw his picture on a website for Main Coons and I fell in love with him. He has the most expressive face I have ever seen in a cat, and I have been a cat lover all my life. Sometimes his face is so expressive, he looks like a person. Other times he looks like a wise old inscrutable owl. Tucker has a very goofy personality. He is very loving and affectionate, but he can be so silly. He and Keifer, his cat brother, will play chase throughout the house, running up and down the stairs, screeching round corners on two paws, crashing into walls.

Tucker learned very early how to open our lever handled doors. In fact, he taught Keifer and Bocephus, the Wonder Dog how to open them, so that now when he walks up to a closed door, he sits and waits for one of them to open it for him. We have had to put child-proof locks on all the doors because we don’t want them to get in certain door. For example, we have a door in our video room upstairs that leads to the attic. The cats love to sneak into the attic and go exploring, and we have never been comfortable with letting them have free roam up there with all the wiring and insulation.

One Sunday morning about a week before we left on vacation, someone left the door to the attic unlocked, and while we were at church, Tucker decided to have a grand adventure and explore the attic. When I came home from church I could hear a cat meow as soon as I came in the door. Sometimes when I am in the house, the outside cats will come up on the porch and meow for me to come out for a petting session. I opened the door--no cat. I went up stairs to change clothes and noticed the attic door open. I went in, called Kitty-kitty, didn’t hear anything and came out and locked the door. I went on about my business, but as I came down stairs I could hear a cat calling again. I went to the front door--no cat. I started walking through the house calling, and Keifer came running. I started calling Tucker, and I could hear him meow. Now, Tucker is known for getting closed up in some spot--the coat closet and the pantry are two of his favorite napping spots so I check them first. I notice as I go through the house that the meows get louder right around the front door/office area. By the time Husband gets home, I am frantic. Gradually, we come to realize Tucker is in the wall! By this time everyone is gathered around talking excitedly, Bocephus is there barking at the wall, Keifer, is meowing at the wall, and Christina (daughter’s dog, and Bo’s litter-mate) has joined the excitement. Granddaughter’s are crying because they don’t want Tucker to die. Husband is having a melt-down because his mind is racing--cat in the wall--hole in the wall--vet bills--repair bills--having to get it all done before vacation. I take granddaughters and animals upstairs to the video room--explain no deaths will occur, but must have calm in order to complete the rescue. Their job is to keep the dogs in the video room until the ordeal is over. Back downstairs to rescue NOT underway. Husband is pacing, not wanting to tear a hole in wall. I suggest no hole is needed--just a neat little square taken out near the baseboard, just large enough for one cat to be extracted. Square neatly taped back, a little spackle and paint, and VOILA! Good as new! Meanwhile, Tucker has taken up a pitiful continuous mew, which sounded like, “ Mom, get me out, get me out! I’m scared!”

Husband finds the tools he thinks he will need, and commences to cut a nice neat square out of the wall. Out pops a white dusty Tucker with a, “Meow! What took you so long?” He plops down on the floor, the girls and dogs come racing down the stairs to see for themselves that Tucker is alive and well. Bocephus has to sniff Tuck up and down and back again. After the excitement died down, I checked him to make sure he didn’t have any cuts or injuries, and he seemed to be no worse for wear, almost acting like it had been a grand adventure. Life can’t get any crazier can it? Oh, but wait until I tell you what happened the night, or should I say three in the morning that we left for vacation…but that’s another story.