It is probably a part of the human nature to question ourselves when something disappears either in front of our eyes or from the place where we had surely put it a short while ago. Even though both Irina and I remembered pretty well that the ring had been left on the computer desk, after unsuccessfully searching for it on the floor around the desk, she guessed that maybe she just thought that she was wearing the ring the day before and it was quite likely that in reality she had left it at home and therefore never took it off and put it on the desk. We decided to give this theory a try and wait until she would go home and look for it where she thought it might be.
The service and the fellowship hour at the church passed quite fast and early afternoon Irina returned home. When she called me to "report" the results of her check up, I knew what she was going to say—the ring was not at home, which meant that the cats either had pushed it into the most difficult to reach spot in the room or—well, it didn't seem impossible—swallowed it. Therefore, I had two tasks on my hands: to search the whole room upside down and inside out and at the same time to be extra careful when cleaning the cats’ litter box—we know that not all that glitters is gold, but…
I chose to start with the first one, because if I were successful, the second, more aromatic task would be then eliminated, but no sooner than the next day—I had some things to do Sunday evening and besides it was getting dim in my room. So, Monday morning the search began. I equipped myself with a flash light, but decided that I could do without a rope, matches, compass, extra clothes, three-day food ration and a Walkie Talkie. The computer desk was too big and heavy to move but its legs were long enough for me to dive under it. My activity didn't go unnoticed by S.&O.—they were totally (not literally) blown away by the flash light and wherever I looked while crawling under the desk I saw cats, cats and nothing but cats and their glaring eyes. "How nice of you! We really appreciate that you've come with this new and wonderful game. Catnip?" It wasn't clear whether Santosh was asking for it or actually offering it to me. I said "no" which was fine to mean “no catnip for you!”, but was apparently impolite to decline his attempt to lift my spirits up (I’ve never tried catnip before—I know cats get high on it, but does it actually work with humans; and what do you do with it—sniff, chew or smoke?), but I didn't care.
My next move was the bed, I mean, I moved the bed. There was not enough room to push it all the way to open the area under it, so I had to resort to the same technique as in the puzzle where you need to move pieces up and down, right and left and back again to try to make a picture but ending up with a soccer player having a ball instead of the head or something even less appealing. Any time I pushed the bed, there was Onni beneath it. With disapproval in his eyes, "What's going on? I thought we agreed that this is MY safe space," he immediately went hiding back under the bed. After fifteen-twenty minutes of the operation "The Obscure Ring," the break seemed to be well deserved. The cats didn't argue. I looked around the room—there was not too much stuff but still enough to spend most of my day moving everything back and forth. “It’s really a lot of work. Yes, yes, indeed,” S.&O. pretended to be very sympathetic. Though, it didn’t prevent Onni from climbing up on the top of the book case, where he comfortably snuggled, happily yawned and closed his eyes. Unlike his brother, Santosh showed more support by nestling next to me on the couch and murmuring away, but I knew that it would take only couple of minutes before he joined Onni. There was no place for me in this sleep country so I got up and went to the door. Later on the cats claimed that I looked infuriated and sounded extremely intimidating, but that’s not true. All I did I said “You’d better, guys, find this… this… this ring, or…” and quietly closed (not even slammed!) the door behind me.
To be continued.
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