I'd looked through the house, under chairs, on the bed, Preposition Noun, you name it. No cat.
This was a problem. The cat is a strictly indoor cat, despite his clearly expressed wishes. I had been gone for five hours, so if he had gotten out, he could be pretty far away.
I was wandering around the yard, call for the cat. Some people would consider this a complete waste of time-- and it would have been, with some cats. But not this cat. This cat comes when he is called, 99% of time.
"Mew. Mew! Mew."
"Finnegan. Cat. Where are you?"
"Mew mew mew mew mew..."
I looked around. Under the deck? No. Behind a bush? No. Behind me? No. The mews were coming from...
My eyes followed the sound. There was a cat on the roof. (No, not a hot tin roof. Just a shingle roof.)
"Hold on, Gins. I'm going to get a ladder."
I ran to the garage, purple bathrobe flapping, grabbed the smaller of the ladders, and rushed back to the house. I snapped the ladder into place, and clambered to the top. Finnegan crouched on the edge of the roof, peering anxiously over the edge. Reaching out to him, I pulled him gently toward me.
Cat safely cradled in my arms, I reversed down the ladder, brought him inside, and served him a bowl of his favorite food.
Then I put on my dress and shoes, and headed out the door for my interview.
Just your average day.