First of all, many thanks to all of you who've purred and prayed for me
and my newest little girl, and for listening to a frantic, overreacting
cat-mama go batsh*t.

Okay, okay, y'all are right. She's pulling a nasty little feline trick
for the sole and specific purpose of scaring the pants off her mama.

About an hour ago she came out of our bedroom, squeaked at me, and took
off. And Louie had been having fits about her getting into the rafters!
I'll give him the what-for about spooking me like that! A bit later I
went and put some stuff in the dryer, turned it on, and she darted from
behind the machine like a cat out of hell, which she may be if this
keeps up. Being pitch-black has not helped us, even with a flashlight;
she's an expert, my little Black Russian, and had no doubt been a KGB
secret agent in a past life. I'm just glad my husband was wrong about
her getting stuck, and that she's hiding but safe. I was more scared
that she snuck out while I was checking the hallway for a package I was
awaiting. That girl's carrying camo in her makeup bag, the little devil!

Blessed be,
Baha