We spent the whole of yesterday searching for Moo.

We rode our bikes round our subdivision, and the neighbouring subdivision, and through the farmland, calling him all the time ... nothing.

Several people called with possible Moo-sightings (in response to our "lost cat" posters) but each time we got to the place where they thought they might have seen a little black-and-white cat, he was nowhere to be found.

As soon as Steve got home from school, he headed out to search.

So did Em, as soon as she got home.

Nothing.

When it got dark, Bobby and Stephen went out with flashlights ... They saw armadillos and raccoons galore, but no Moo.

At midnight we gave up and went to sleep.

We kept picturing him hurt, or thirsty, or hungry, and all alone and scared. It was awful.

At five this morning, when it was still dark, I woke up to Moo's funny croaky little meow outside our bedroom door on the patio. He was so happy to be home again; I've never heard him purr so loudly as when I opened the door and scooped him up. I woke the kids and Bobby up straight away - it felt like Christmas time.

I guess we'll never know where he went or what he did; whether it was a cool hunting experience or a terrifying lonely time.

We're just so, so happy to have him back; it is such a feeling of release and lightness, to be able to stop worrying about him. He is happy too; he keeps twining himself around our legs and rubbing his nose against ours.