This guy didn't even say where he was calling from. Granted, I only asked him who he was in japanese, but.. ::shrugs:: I didn't answer when he asked if I was Ragnhild. Who the hell does he think he is, using my first name so casually? I know who I am, but who was he? Calling from an unlisted number, being totally anonymous, and he demands to know who I am? No fucking way, dude.
But maybe I should answer the phone in norwegian for a while, in case anyone calls in info about Odessa.
Uncertainty is hard. Not knowing how long to keep hope is hard. There are cats who have disappeared for half a year, only to return long after they have been believed dead. I don't know how much distance a cat would cover each day. If she's even traveling in the right direction. I can't bet everything on the microchip leading to her return, but it's a favorable change to the odds. The majority of lost pets returned come home thanks to some form of ID, be it a collar with the owner's contact info, a tattoo or a microchip.
The problem with the microchip is that it's invisible, and it requires a chip scanner to get the info. It's not something someone finding her could get on their own, they'd have to bring her to a vet or the police. Most people wouldn't go to the trouble unless they were certain she was lost. It's usually people who know the pain of a pet disappearing that help out.
Has anyone here lost a pet and gotten it back?
I've had a pet disappear for a few (3-4) days and return on her own, but nothing beyond that. Actually.. there was that one time when I lived at Brårud, the family cat disappeared (I don't remember for how long, two or three days maybe) and I heard her cries at night, followed the sound to find her tied to a tree in a small forest.. right next to the house of a psycho family. She was starved but appeared otherwise unharmed. The knots on the string were so tight I had to run back home and grab a knife to cut her loose.
When I say psycho family, I mean rather fucked up. There was an incident when that girl (a couple years younger than me, I think) had done something bad.. no memory of what, but it was something I witnessed in person, not about the cat.. so I told her mother, and she flat out accused me of lying, saying "My angel would never do something like that"... uhhh.
I never felt at home at Brårud. I particularly disliked the dialect. Never liked the people, but eventually grew to love the forests and the bogs. It'd be a nice place without the people. I had few friends. Three whom I remember fondly, and would be happy to resume contact with if they would happen to find me
