Usually, you can set your watch by the cat's schedule. Last night, to throw a spanner in the works and to prove who's really master of the house, the little bugger decided to not come in when we went to bed.
We didn't think much of it when we went to bed, but when we woke up in the night to go to the loo and found he still wasn't in, we began to worry. And worry. And think about the worst. So at midnight, 3am and 5am, we were up and yelling as quietly as possible for the cat to come in. That's when we really started feeling the bad mojo – thoughts of the cat being eaten by foxes, run over by wild rampaging horses, or abducted by cat-eating aliens. You get the picture. We didn't get any sleep last night.
And the cat?
He ambled in this morning, shed a few slugs on the living room carpet as usual, wolfed down some food and buggered off outside again.
Bastard.
