"Jackson, I'm home," I said tossing my keys on the table still clutching my plastic wrapped dry cleaning. There's nothing better than clean clothes free of cat hair; except clean linens free of cat hair. "Come here kitty cat!"
But the cat didn't come.
"Jackson?" I said scanning his favorite chair (empty) and food bowl (half-empty).
I looked under the bed, under the sofa and on top of the refrigerator. No cat x 3.
I searched in the washing machine, in the toilets, at the bottom of the pool. Nothing--thankfully!
I put a handful of kibble in a plastic container and shaking it like a mariachi, danced around the house singing his name, "Jackson, ole!" Nada.
Don't panic, I told myself. Jackson had gone missing before only to be found in the most obvious place. So. Don't. Panic.
I continued with my routine and swung open the closet to hang up my dry cleaning when I saw black and white fur. Jackson! The cat had discovered how to open the closet and had curled up on the clean sheets and blankets.
"Jackson! What a relief to find you. But you've gotten cat hair on all the clean linens."
He yawned and rolled over leaving a trail of cat hair in his wake. He looked so comfortable.
Revision: There's nothing better than clean clothes free of cat hair. Except... a found cat.
