Heartbreaking

The cats notice each other.

Anders calls, desperately. Runs to the door after me. Flees when I turn. Scurries back when I close the door.

My cats look through. Get bored. Go to their warm beds. Later, they hear Anders call and look anxious. The dog yips.

I get up. I go out. Anders crouches low on the bench. Mews silently. I squat. He comes to within a few feet. Once sniffs my hand, then runs.

I can't settle. I hear him call. The temperature is dropping. There was a hard frost this morning. He doesn't seem to be sleeping. Or eating as much. He can't leave off watching the window. The warm inside.

I open a door. Leave it open. Sense him come in then take flight. He mews outside.

Eventually I go to bed. Upstairs even with ear-plugs I can hear him.

I have contacted five animal charities. They ask if he's chipped. I say I don't know. I can't catch him. They ask if my neighbours are missing a cat. They post photos on their pages. One says she'll provide me with a trap.

I can't imagine trapping him. The fear. He won't remember, says my brother. We had to do that with Scared. He'll be terrified, says my cat and yoga loving friend. He'll scream. They both tell me to have a towel ready to wrap him in.

He mews. It starts to rain.

I can't sleep. I go downstairs. My cats watch him watching them. The dog yawns. Anders calls more loudly.

I don't know what to do.