As the stress of the semester officially fades into the distinct shadows cast by the summer sun, I find my life more hectic than ever before. I thought leaving the intensely anxious environment that is college would be a reprieve from twitching eyes and hives. However, as my life normally takes a turn for the worst, that anxious environment followed me home as I embark on the adventure that I’m certain this summer will be.

Just yesterday morning, I was lazily sipping my coffee, watching The Office when I realized that I needed to speed up my routine in order to make it to work on time. The low growl of my stomach was the only necessary cue to convince me that breakfast was a must. I sauntered into the kitchen ready to make some potatoes and eggs when I happened to glance at my back door. The door was wide open, and the screen was pushed open just enough for an animal to squeeze its chubby little body out into the toasty morning air.

I have four temperamental cats, each with their own unique quirks. One common quirk these pampered pets have is their love for being outside amidst the dead grass and potted plants. My mother has these cats so spoiled that there is absolutely no way they would last more than a day fending for themselves in my neighborhood. Each of my cats is like the millennials of today who cannot seem to function in the real world without expecting everything to be handed to them on a silver platter.

Therefore, as I made a mad dash to the back door, one of my cats (Ivan) skipped on in. When he saw my frazzled face and frizzy hair, he knew he had been caught red-handed. I ran past him, telling him that I would deal with him later and rushed onto the deck. And, yes people, of course I speak to my cats like they are my children; when they misbehave they deserve to be reprimanded. Frantically searching the yard as the sun blinded my sensitive eyes, I caught a glimpse of a bushy tail on the neighbors back porch. This bushy tail belonged to Beatrice, who again looked at me like she knew she had been caught red-handed.

I raced through my house and made it to the neighbor’s porch in record time to find that Beatrice had disappeared. I looked high and low for this cat, only to glimpse her sitting at my back door waiting to get in. This vindictive cat knew I was coming to get her and deciding to hippity hop on over to our deck instead. I swear my cats had me running all over the place looking for them knowing that I had to get ready for work. I then raced back through my entire house to let the impatient cat back into house. Two down, two more to account for.

I scoured the entire house, hitting all the usual haunts and hiding places. I found Lucy, our resident introvert who could care less about human interaction, snoozing on my parent’s bed. But for the life of me I could not find Benedict, the biggest cat in the house with the softest and daintiest meow. I put in a good cardio workout looking for him, but time was running out and I needed food. So, I sat at the kitchen table and quickly scarfed down a yogurt, when all of a sudden, I heard the intense high-pitched yipping of Bella, our sassy Yorkshire Terrier. I ran outside once again because I knew that the last cat was outside somewhere waiting for me to come to his rescue.

I ran to the banister and looked over the edge to see Benedict pressed up against the lattice meowing full-voiced up at me. Again, I ran full-speed through the house to save him from the harsh outdoors. When I reached the walkway he was sitting in not even thirty seconds ago, I realized that he had disappeared seemingly into thin air. I booked it down the neighbor’s yard and searched our back alley, snooping around the garages at the back of our house. I could not find his furry frame.

I even searched out front, peeking under cars and behind trash cans. In my paranoid state, the thought crossed my mind that someone might have taken him. I almost went to accuse an elderly woman of stealing him straight off the sidewalk and placing him in her car. I was a mess, but I had to get to work, so I decided to put a pause on my sleuthing until my shift was over. My poor mother sat outside almost all day waiting for our beloved furry friend to come out of hiding into her waiting arms.

This, however, did not happen, and by about nine o’clock there was no sign of the cat. My mother was convinced that he was hiding in the depths of 15-year-old wood stashed underneath our neighbor’s porch. At about nine thirty, my younger brother wedged his slim frame underneath some of the boards, and with a flashlight discovered the trembling body of Benedict as he sat terrified at the furthest point under about thirty two-by-fours.

It must have been quite a site to see five frazzled humans of various petite heights trying to finagle these boards so that we could save our home boy Benedict. After about 40 minutes of board shifting and flashlight placement, my brother was able to army crawl into the perfect position to shoo the cat into my sister’s waiting arms. This crazy adventure came to an even more exciting end when I took the cat into the shower with me to wash all the dirt out of his fluffy white fur.

Only the Disabella family could experience this level of excitement in one day, but you know what, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Our lives are always a hot mess, but that’s what keeps us humble and makes these trying tales even more real, which was the exact vision I had for this blog site. I’m always down to let the cat out of the bag, or in this case, the cat out of the house. Of course, the truth always comes with a steaming side of coffee, because without a large dose of caffeine in my life, the anxiety and crazy experiences would outlive and outshine the stories I have coming next. Stay tuned …