Myrtle’s Great Escape (That She Never Meant to Have)

Yesterday was supposed to be exciting. After months of putting it off, we finally had air conditioning installed in our bedroom. Living in the Algarve means summer nights can become unbearably hot, so the thought of finally being able to sleep comfortably during the hottest months of the year felt like a real luxury. Unfortunately, the excitement didn’t last very long. Our indoor cat, Myrtle, disappeared after being frightened by the installers, turning her into a missing indoor cat and sending me into a panic.

The installers had only just arrived when poor Myrtle got such a fright that she bolted. She’s an indoor cat and, although she loves sitting out on the terrace with us, she isn’t used to being outside on her own. To make matters worse, I noticed Rocky, the farm dog, was loose again, and my heart immediately sank. I knew I’d have to keep a close eye out for her.

As it got dark, I headed out to look for her. I was still wearing my fluffy slippers, so I only walked down the road and back, calling her name and hoping she’d simply been hiding somewhere until everything had quietened down. I searched for a little while but there was no sign of her. Eventually, Michael and I went to bed, telling ourselves she’d probably wait until it was completely dark before making her way home.

I woke up at 2am and immediately looked to see if she’d returned. She hadn’t. Somehow I managed to get back to sleep, only to wake again at 5am. Still no Myrtle. By the time it was light enough to see properly, I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I threw on some clothes and headed straight outside.

For the next hour, I walked all around the estate calling her name. It was one of those strange mornings where there seemed to be animals everywhere except the one I was desperately looking for. I spotted three rabbits, a little kitten and several goats happily going about their morning, but there was still no sign of Myrtle. Every rustle in the bushes made me stop and listen, and every little black shape in the distance made my heart race.

I came home for a coffee, hoping it would clear my head, then went back out and searched all over again. Still nothing. By now, the sun was climbing higher, and I was becoming more and more worried. If she was trapped somewhere, the heat was only going to make things worse.

On what I’d decided would be one final search before stopping to think of another plan, I walked over to a thick patch of prickly bushes close to the house. I’d glanced there before, but it was so overgrown that I hadn’t properly looked inside. Something told me not to ignore it.

That’s when I heard it. The tiniest little miaow.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt such relief. She’d somehow managed to get herself deep inside the bushes, completely hidden from view. There was no easy way to reach her, so I had to battle my way through all the horrible prickly plants, getting scratched in the process. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the moment I reached her and picked her up, none of that mattered anymore. She was safe.

Once we got home, she had a good drink, something to eat and then settled down as though absolutely nothing had happened. Meanwhile, I was left feeling as though I’d aged about ten years overnight! It’s incredible how quickly your imagination runs away with you when a pet goes missing. You start thinking of every possible worst-case scenario, especially when the hours begin to pass and there’s still no sign of them.

Looking back, she hadn’t actually gone very far at all. Like so many frightened cats, she’d found the thickest, safest place she could hide and stayed there until she felt secure enough to answer me. Hearing that tiny little miaow was probably one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard.

Today, I’m absolutely knackered after barely sleeping, but I’m also incredibly grateful. Myrtle is back where she belongs, curled up asleep without a care in the world, while I’m surviving on coffee and wondering if I’ll ever stop worrying about these furry little creatures we choose to share our lives with.

If you have pets, I’m sure you’ll understand. They aren’t “just animals”; they’re family. And when one of them disappears, even for a few hours, it feels as though your whole world stops until they’re safely home again.