Goodbye Kitty?

My cat is missing and I don't know what to do.

Popeye was rescued from my backyard, a tiny, less-than-a-week-old kitten hiding among tomato plants and soaking wet from the rain. One of his eyes had a terrible wound that was infected and bulging out of its socket. In survival of the fittest fashion, he was probably abandoned by his mother and left to fend for himself. After a long treatment of antibiotics and milk through an eye dropper, Popeye not only recovered, but he grew up to be a feisty kitty who lovingly tormented my dog and other two cats.

When I'm walking in the house, Popeye loves to run ahead of me and lay his body down in my path, forcing me to stop and shower him with affection. I could never walk more than five feet without a purring Popeye demanding more. When I walked inside the house tonight, there was no one to stop me in my tracks.

It's a big and scary world out there and I'm terrified for him. No one stops to love you when you lay down in front of oncoming traffic. I have no idea where he is, but I'll be leaving a box and blanket outside of the front door, with his favorite dog treats inside.