Cat Missing for 5 Years Found Nearly 2,000 Miles Away From Home

Cork boy 55

heres a good story about a stray cat

A calico cat named Willow, who disappeared from a home near the Rocky Mountains five years ago, was found Wednesday on a Manhattan street and will soon be returned to a family in which two of the three kids and one of the two dogs may remember her. How she got to New York, more than 1,600 miles away, and the kind of life she lived in the city are mysteries.

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/09/14/cat-missing-for-5-years-found-nearly-2000-miles-away-from-home/

mike65

and shall remain a mystery until "Willow - My Adventures" are published in the Spring.

chris139ryan

thats one amazing story

cyrusdvirus

I remember when my family moved up from Cork in January '87 we brought our cat with us.

The first couple of days he was fine, seemed to be ok about finding his way about the place, he was allowed wander as much as he wanted, and always came home and was allowed in when he wanted (typical of a cat really, we were his door/kitchen/waiter staff!)

We were in the new house 4 days when we had snow. Because Tiger was so well house trained he would hold it in rather than do his business in the house. First morning my parents managed to keep an eye on him when he went outside and brought him straight back in after doing the deed. The second morning he went running out the door like the proverbial scalded cat, up over the next door neighbours front wall, and gone into the inky darkness of a wintry January morning.

There was food left out, eyes were kept peeled, and a search ensued for the next 2 weeks, but to no avail.

5 months later i was about a mile away from my house with 2 friends, in an old quarry/dumping ground/dip whatever. Still with a fairly distinctive Cork accent... Who comes trotting out of the bushes?? Tiger!!

I recognised him straight away (he was my cat, or so my foolish youthful age had me believe) and kept on picking him up and checking little things to make doubly sure, one of his claws had been removed by the vet in Cork years before after a fight or something. I sent my friends up to my parents house to get my dad and the car and come get me and the cat. Eventually he got pissed off with me constantly picking him up and took a swipe at me and ran off. Then Dad came down with my older brother but the cat was gone.

The next morning (a Sunday) I got up early. I raided the fridge. I grabbed pretty much the entire Sunday morning Fry up and away i went....

Tiger came out pretty much immediately when he heard me calling and came running when he saw me waving rashers about the place. I lifted him up, dropped the meat, and began the long walk home.... my arms were in SHREDS by the time I got there, but people were up (and wondering where I was, and more importantly the Sunday breakfast was) and in we went. Poor Tiger was terrified, and my 2 sisters wanted to open the door and let him run. I told them that my arms would look good in comparison to theirs if they opened the door.

1 tin of whiskas later and he calmed right down, 2 days later there was no shifting him.

We eventually had to have him PTS 7 years later, when he had a tumour in his stomach. At that stage he would have been 12 or 13 so in cat terms that was a decent old innings.


I still laugh when i think of my dads face at the realisation of his beloved Sunday fry abandoned...
And yet Tiger always sat beside Dad at dinner time, and there was always a scrap or 2 of meat that would 'fall' onto the floor from dad's plate...