MANY OF YOU know about our adopted black kitten Koda and have enjoyed following his adventures. And you know of our/my deep attachment to him. He stole my heart in about the first 30 seconds when he came up to me out of the dark woods on a cold March night this spring, hungry and wet and cold, but full of personality and affection. Here is Koda’s latest adventure:

On Thursday Kathy and I decided to paddle the canoe on the river. I went into the garage to grab life jackets and Koda came wandering out after me. After a half hour of paddling and with a thunderstorm coming we called Koda. No Koda. The storm arrived and departed and we called some more. No Koda. As dark arrived we went out in drizzling rain and walked the long driveway to the dead end road. No sign of a little black cat. We called until about midnight, left the yard lights on and the garage door open, expecting him to arrive by morning. Which he has done once or twice before.

Nope. By now we were truly worried. During the day we walked and searched the whole 12 acre woods, through thickets of nettles and buckthorn, with no luck. We called and texted neighbors. We walked neighbors’ woodlots and pounded on garages and yard sheds, calling and calling. No Koda. I must admit a few tears were shed. It is amazing how much space in the heart such a small creature can occupy. I played the mandolin on the deck, in the forlorn hope the familiar sound might somehow effect a small miracle.
At last light I wandered up the driveway for the zillionth time, calling for Koda. Coming back I noticed the garage light still on and went in to turn it off, planning to again leave the door open. I gently said Koda’s name as if he were there and heard a soft meow. “Koda? Koda, where are you!?” Another faint meow. I followed the sound and opened the garage closet/cupboard door, and out crept Koda. At least as far as he could before I snatched him up, and rushed him into the cabin, where Kathy nearly screamed with delight and relief, squeezing us both tightly.

And so Koda is home, which he never left—locked into the garage closet at some point by dumb old Dad, dealing with life jackets. We are happy and very grateful. And Koda is safe and sound. And well-fed with an extra-large dollop of whipped cream.
Post script: On returning into the cabin, after being squeezed and crushed by Kathy, Koda sniffed noses with older brother Simon, who had wandered up and down the driveway with us, meowing and calling his troublesome adopted sibling. For a rather extended period of time they touched gently, a warm and affectionate greeting. Then Simon curled up his nose and hissed, and all was back to normal.