With some help from her mama (me).

As you may have read in my previous posts, Rosie, my little tuxedo, took off about a month ago when Ghost Dog was living in our woods. Since then, I’ve only seen her once, about two weeks later, and she wouldn’t come to me – she just cried and took off into the woods, and I haven’t seen her since.

That day, I couldn’t follow her.

Last night, I went out with Midgie about 5p and I saw her running down my driveway back towards the woods. She had snuck up on the back deck for some dry food I leave out for RJ.

This time, I followed her…actually running at times to keep from losing sight of her in the woods. My bare feet stuck hurridly into my summer Croc’s and wearing only my old knee-length cut-off sweats and an old sweater, I was hardly prepared to go hiking through the woods, but I was determined to at least find out where she was staying now. If she had “adopted” some other family or person I wanted to know who and where. I also wanted to know if they were nice and if they loved her and wanted to keep her.

Well through the woods we went. It was cold and the sun was starting to go down. At times she stopped and I would stop. I talked to her the whole time and she cried back to me, but wouldn’t let me within more than 5 feet of her.

Finally, we made it down to the lake..or where it used to be. North Georgia is in a severe drought and our lake, which is really a reservoir on the Savannah/Tugalo Rivers, has been slowly drained by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to provide water and power downstream.

Where I live, tall weeds about 4 feet high now grow where fish once spawned and jumped. You can literally walk across the inlet to the other side, which is exactly what Rosie did..and I followed. When she got to the other side, she stopped at a boat ramp, now sitting on the dirt. It belonged to a lake home that’s not occupied year round. So I stopped and sat down near her, still talking to her and asking her where she was going, she still “talking” back.

Eventually, she made her way up the back yard to the vacant house and under their back deck. There she stopped, rubbed against a pole and let me pick her up. I scooped her into my arms, wrapped my old sweater around her and held her as tightly and yet as gently as I could as we made our way back across the dry lakebed, up through the woods to the path and eventually back into the house. She snuggled her face into my chest and curled up in my arms, as if she knew she were finally safe.

At first n the house she was still a bit scared, still upset and perhaps remembering the stray dog in the woods, but the more she walked around the house and the other cats, including her son Rusty, greeted her, the more she calmed down.

By the time we were ready to turn out the lights, little Rosie was curled up next to me on the bed, purring and “making cookies” in the plush blanket – warm and safe at long last.