The escape artist

Beta’s room is really coming together.  The walls are painted and this morning we had the carpet installed.

Yes, evil, gas emitting carpet.  I have read the studies, I know hardwood is best…Mama can’t afford it.  So we picked the most environmentally safe one we could find, have not allowed treatment with chemicals and are taking our chances.  Life is risky enough without sweating the small stuff.
Carpet guy gets here this morning, Charlie…the spaztastic Beagle of course wants to greet him. So when the carpet guy arrived I put Charlie on his leash and took him downstairs.  Matt went up and met with the man, and came back down. Full five mins later my pregnant brain kicked over and it occurred to me, where is Simon?  I ask Matt where he is, he says he does not know.  We both fly upstairs to find him.  
We have had a lot of contractors and workers into our house. Simon knows better than to get in the way.  He almost always will come in to check out what people are doing and then go off and observe from a distance.  When we got to the top of the stairs we assumed we could find him harassing the carpet guy. I was anticipating apologizing, again, for my loud crazed feline and taking him downstairs with us.
Except he wasn’t there.
In fact.  He wasn’t anywhere.  
It was then I noticed the front door has been propped open.
OPEN.
Simon, our indoor, naive, stupid about the outdoors world cat… on the loose.
Now I am panicked.  Baby hormones running through me at hyper speed I bark at Matt to go check outside while I search the rest of the house.  We call and call and call for him.  I check every silly hiding spot he has. From the bathtub to underneath beds.  I call him, plead him to come out.  Nothing.  Matt meanwhile is coming up as equally empty outside.  By now the carpet guy has clued into the crazy emotional, huge, pregnant lady that is frantically searching for a creature named Simon and attempts to assure me the door was only open for a moment.  I do not want to hear it, this is my first baby. My Simon.  If I loose him now, at 31 weeks… Lord I do not know I will have the strength.
Simon comes when called almost to a fault. After a 20 min exhaustive search of the house I decide he must be outside.  I dart out of the house (here is your mental picture, petite lady in yoga pants with a huge round basketball of a belly, shoeless cuz who has time for shoes, frantically calling her cat) in search of him.  Matt is now half way down the street calling him, and I decide it is time to check our immediate neighbours.  Luckily, by now it is 9am and most of my street is off to work so all my knocking on doors is futile so I can simply check under their trees and shrubs, checking their backyards calling our boy.  Mentally I am printing off lost cat fliers in my head, I am calling local shelters and picturing him cold, in the night, alone, wet and sad.  Oh my sweet boy!  
Suddenly from our house Matt calls out to me.  I cannot hear what he says, he simply is waving me home.  Wanting to get to the point I simply say “Say yes or no!” as I run across the meet him.  He says yes! He has our boy.
Where was he you ask?  In the house.  
Where?
Your guess is as good as mine.  Matt found him pawing at the back door wanting to come outside to where Matt was calling him.
He doesn’t know what all the fuss is about and would rather like us to come inside and give him a drink.  He noisily greets us at the door with irritation to his voice about the stranger in our house and why everyone keeps calling him.
Ava’s death cost me about 7 lives we figure. Simon, you just cost me one.  Beta…be gentle sweetie, Mama only has one left!