Just when we were about to begin posting a recap of our top posts, we had a little drama. So by popular demand, we decided to write a long over due One Ringing Bell news update.
RINGING BELL HEADQUARTERS – A shock surged through
HQ Friday night when around twenty three hundred hours, Isabelle (AKA Izzer),the
ragdoll, escaped. A senior staff member, who had sole duty for Ringing Bell
creatures due to another staff member’s travel plans, had inadvertently left
a door open.
Lucy, the Labrador, conducted a quick perimeter search but
found no evidence of the cat. The lone staff member searched for hours and
finally retired in the wee hours of the morning. On his rising, the renegade ragdoll was still in abstentia, and several consultation calls were made to
ascertain the next course of action.
This incident brought a somber tone to headquarters.
When interviewed, Lucy said, “We all knew this could happen.
I’ve tried to tell everyone here, it’s not as exciting as an animal might think
out there. It’s a dangerous world.”
The tuxedo, Wilbur, who had been swinging on a chair chimed in.
“Isabelle has always been a little stuck-up with us kittens. You
know she called us the street gang, and all that, but no one would wish this on
her. It’s been nearly twelve hours, and we haven’t even heard a twitch of the
tail from her.” Wilbur jumped up on the food table and crunched down on a
little turkey and potato. He swallowed and mused, “You know, now that she’s
gone, I kind of miss her.”
Carl, the strong silent type, who was queuing up for food
said, “What he said.”
Mama Kitty took on a maternal tone as she left her velour
blanket and stood to be interviewed. “It’s like I told the kittens, you need a
plan. You can’t just dash out in the back yard and expect everything to go your
way. You need to think. I mean, you haveto have a plan A and a plan B.” With that, she
blinked her eyes, and sauntered off to find her son, Carl.
The alpha grey tabby, Misty, lumbered over from her post in the
window. “I remember when I was just a young tiger, I had a few escapades.”
Misty’s yellow eyes grew distant. “Those were the good old days. Ah, that
Isabelle, she was probably hankering for a little adventure.”
Wilbur cruised by Misty, ignoring the fact he had evilly pounced Misty earlier in the day. Misty gave him a proactive swat and called, “Just cause you’re a young whippersnapper doesn’t mean
you’re wiser. I still have top billing around here and don’t you forget it.”
Wilbur glared at her and headed off to take a nap on Lucy’s
bed. Probably to plan his next move.
Misty jumped up on the sofa and pawed the velour blanker. “Anyone
using this?” She then curled up and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, the search continued for a few more hours, then
lights went out, and another night passed with no Isabelle.
The next day, the second staff member returned home and
things kicked into high gear―color ink cartridges were bought, flyers made, signposts
covered, neighbors badgered, strangers stopped, roads walked, and prayers
prayed.
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One staff member even went through the neighborhood standing
on her head and calling into storm drains, in the event Isabelle had joined a
band of underground cats living in the sewer system.
And well after midnight, with hoarse voices, the call went
out, “Isabelle come home, girl.”
Reluctantly, weary and sad staff members turned out the
lights at Ringing Bell headquarters. Isabelle how now been gone more than forty-eight
hours. They tried not to think of comments made through the years
about her not being the brightest bulb in the box. What she had lacked in
brilliance, though, she made up for in devotion, but the truth remained, Isabelle
was not street savvy. And so more prayers went up that she wouldn’t encounter
coyotes or raccoons.
Another night passed.
In the early morning, just after five hundred hours, Lucy
sent out a five-alarm bark. Staff members bounded down the stairs to a
hysterical Lucy speaking in monosyllables. “Out. Out,” she barked.
They followed her into the backyard where her nose immediately
hit the ground, and as they followed her, they heard her muttering, “Fresh
tracks. Fresh tracks.” Lucy made another perimeter search and concluded. “She’s
definitely been here.”
So, the staff members renewed their calls, “Here Isabelle.
Here girl.”
And in the dim light, a furry figure slowly emerged from the far
reaches of Headquarters property. Isabelle had come home.
A staff member scooped her up, and though her fur was matted
and full of burrs, she had never looked more beautiful.
Lucy almost wagged her tail off at the sight of the
prodigal, and inside, all cats, even the street gang, greeted her with a warm
sniff.
Lucy accompanied staff members on a victory lap as they circled the still sleepy neighborhood taking down signs.
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As of yet, Isabelle has been quite tight lipped about her two
day, three night adventure. Maybe it’s too soon, or maybe we’ll never hear what
actually happened. But all that matters, is she is home at Ringing Bell
Headquarters, once more.
“What’s
the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens
to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the
last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don’t be intimidated by
all this bully talk. You’re worth more than a million canaries” (Matthew
10:29 The Message).