Pumpkin has fitted himself amongst the insane amount of crap on our countertops and is desperately trying to find himself another treat.  He's become so obsessed with the treats he spends hours staring at the bottle, knocking it over, nibbling at it.  I think he may be emotionally eating.

Today we got another (the third) phone call about an orange cat on a certain road.  Call #1 said she had an orange cat, but it was female, and she let it go.  Call #2 said she saw an orange cat on her patio growling at her cat.  Call #3 today said there was an orange cat hanging around their house.

We've been silently worried, but outwardly dismissive, about these calls.  After all, this road is quite far away.  I'm confused about the distance, not wanting to move our traps here should tonight be the night Sunkist comes home, but at the same time not wanting to lose a chance that could very well be him.  Each person has stressed that they've never seen an orange cat around there.  All the more distressing.

So today, as we were entering the subdivision, we drove by the house of Call #3.  Now, sagebrush is a distressing plant.  It is all crazy, goes in all different directions, and it is generally just tall enough to hide a cat.  And because there is only 1 blade of grass per acre here in Wyoming sagebrush covers as far as the eye can see.  Imagine my extreme frustration through these 19 days of straining to see an orange cat in this tangle of weeds.

As we were driving along, and I was becoming increasingly distressed about how and why Sunkist would be this far, J slammed on the brakes and pointed out a cat.  A cat about a zillion yards away.  An orange cat.  J.  Who pays attention to very little, notices almost nothing.  It was shocking.  We had the binoculars with us (yes, we're sickos) and both of us took turns using them and then alternatively screaming at each other about how to correctly adjust them. 

J finally told me to get out there.  I was hesitant to go on someone's property.  These people are nutcases.  But I timidly approached the cat, had only gone about 10 feet in fact, and Orange Kitty #3 (I think?) started scooting away.  I was calling Sunkist's name and J was swearing the cat would poke his head up and look at me when I did this.  I was too busy keeping one eyeball on the orange flashes and another on the house ahead—looking for the shotgun out the window.

The cat wasn't interested in letting me near him/her.  This fact is interesting to me—remember Call #1 actually had the cat in captivity.  Maybe there are 2 orange cats down there?  (I say down there because we live on the back side of a ridge near the mountains—this cat, if Sunkist, would've had to travel up the ridge, over the ridge, down the ridge, and through quite a bit of flat land to get to this particular road.)

I decided it would be a bad idea to channel my inner sprint runner and hurdle through the sagebrush at breakneck speed so we drove up to the house of Call #3.  On the way J swore up and down that it was Sunkist.  I disagreed, his face seemed different.  The caller agreed that I could set up a stake-out on her property and emphasized that she has never seen an orange cat around.  She was actually quite nice, offered the use of another trap that she happened to have, had the most attractive children I've ever seen, and 3 Saint Bernards that were huge. 

So tonight I will don camouflage, slick my hair back and put that black crap all over my face.  I'll take my traps, my stinky tuna, wet cat food, a pillowcase, a flashlight..and whatever else I think might be useful, like a romance novel.  If only I had purchased the night vision goggles I was looking at a week ago—yes, I seriously considered the purchase. 

J said if I get the orange cat in a trap I'm to bring him/her home immediately regardless of if I think it's not Sunkist.  He doesn't trust me to recognize someone who might as well be my right arm.  What a riot.  Maybe he's right.