Pippin likes to take the tap-tap-tap and stomp-stomp-stomp approach to waking up a beloved human. If that doesn't work, he moves onto making noises with the piles of plastic bags and/or paper on the floor next to my bed. He knows that he has to be loud to wake me up.
I joke that if Pippin's attempt doesn't work, he sends in the heavy hitter (ie. his sister, Musette). She takes the walk-walk, meow-meow, jump-from-the-nightstand-onto-mommy's-chest and repeat approach. Admittedly the pouncing is rather effective.
After I was done teaching, I still didn't see Pippin. I called and called. I looked in all the typical hiding places. I call Rob to ask if there are any additional 'secret' hiding places that I hadn't discovered yet. I take the flashlight and look under all the beds in the house. I look in the corners of the closets. I look behind the furniture. I ask Rob, "are you absolutely sure that Pippin didn't slip out this morning?"
To be honest, I was starting to panic. I even went outside with a container of dry cat food to shake as accompaniment to my calls. Instead of discovering Pippin, I did discover a rabbit in the front yard. This little guy stayed around for quite some time.
OK, I'm starting to panic. Where in the world was Pippin? Keep in mind that I really didn't think that Pippin was outside as he gets scared if you even carry him too close to the front door, much less try to get outside. I go back downstairs, with the flashlight this time. I look in the laundry room. I look under the stairs behind the containers of Christmas decorations. I am basically at a loss and not very happy at the moment.
Then as I'm walking through the 'playroom' in the studio, I catch the glint of two copper eyes between a small opening in a sliding louvre door which leads to my small file room and the electrical panel to the house. I had closed that door early in the day, but not quite all the way, leaving about a 3-inch gap.
Apparently Pippin was in the dark room when I pulled the door closed. Lifted and slid it sideways, really, as the top rail has come loose from the door frame. This is one reason why I hadn't tried hard enough to get it all the way closed.
Why didn't Pippin answer my calls as I tried to rouse him for dinner and then was frantically looking for him? Well, because Pippin doesn't have a very loud voice at all. In fact, he has the softest, highest pitched meow that I've ever heard. You would laugh if you heard it. Also, his "purr" makes no noise. Something about Pippin's voice box is not quite normal for a cat. He probably was trying to call me and I didn't hear him.
The poor guy not only didn't get a 'snack' during the middle of the day, he missed supper. He was shut up in a dark closet where even he probably couldn't see his own black paw in front of his face if he weren't sitting in the slender opening of the door. Why he didn't scratch at the door as I walked past, I'm not sure.
This little guy still has no idea that he can't be seen under many different circumstances. He is very trusting of his tall human companions who sometimes walk through dark hallways in the middle of the night. I've walked into him once before and we both yelped.
Next time I'm in the file closet and go to close the door, I must remember to look in the dark corners for Pippin. But at least now, I know another of his 'secret' hiding places and Pippin is unlikely to miss any more meals any time soon.