Good Boy Chronicles, in which a contractor and the fire department get involved

Okay, first off, again:  Good Boy is FINE.  And also, this is Part 2 of a multi-part story, so if you want to start from the beginning, scroll down to the entry titled "Good Boy:  Disappeared" and read that first.

Ready?

So!  When I left off, it was apparent  that SOMETHING, very possibly Good Boy, was in the floor of his adopter's house, was possibly unable to get out, and had potentially been trapped for ten days at this point.

 

OH NO

I called the rescue.  I told them I needed a contractor (in order to rip up floors or walls if necessary) and someone with a thermal imaging system to meet me at the adopter's house as soon as possible.  Within an hour, the rescue had the people and the equipment rounded up, and we made arrangements to meet at the house at 3.  The thermal imaging system was being loaned by the one of the rescue's vet tech volunteer's boyfriend, who volunteers for a local fire company.  (Most professional fire companies will no longer assist in animal rescues, claiming their liability insurance does not allow it.  Volunteer fire companies, however, tend to be more flexible, especially if the offer of a hefty donation is made.)  The vet tech was coming along, too, to rush Good Boy to the vet as soon as he was extracted.

Waiting for 3:00 to come, I felt sick.  As far as I knew, Good Boy had been without food or water for ten days.  A cat can go without food for a long, long time, but water?  No way.  Kidney damage would begin to occur after just a few days.  Even if he was still alive, which would seem to be indicated by the food disappearing, would he be able to be saved?  Would his kidneys still be functioning? 

At 3, I met everybody across the street from the house.  I briefly explained the situation, including that while the adopter THOUGHT she was getting the cat back, she was, in fact, absolutely NOT getting the cat back.

(An aside:  Once I knew the cat was most likely trapped in the house, I had to get access to the house in order to rescue the cat.  I was afraid that if I told the adopter that she was not getting the animal back, she would deny me access, and all would be lost.  So I made up a cover story that once the cat was found, it would have to be taken to the rescue's veterinarian and checked over, and once it was given a clean bill of health, it would be returned to her.)

At this point it was me, the contractor, the vet tech, and the vet tech's firefighter boyfriend with the thermal camera.  We went in.  

The firefighter started by aiming the camera at the ceiling of the first floor.  He moved slowly through the house, concentrating on the area underneath the sink on the second level.  Nothing.  We went upstairs to the second floor kitchen, where the adopter showed us a second hole she had found, in the wall behind a microwave stand.  The firefighter started imaging underneath the sink.  Nothing.  Then he moved over to the wall where the second hole was.

"I've got something!"  he said.  "There's something alive and moving in there!"  

Could it be?

And then the moving image disappeared.  The firefighter did some more scanning and discovered that there was an area several feet long and a few inches tall, in between the flooring and the subflooring of the kitchen.  Wall partitioning meant that whatever was in there could move for those several feet, but no further.

We all stepped back to discuss which hole we were going to enlarge first, to gain more access to the area.  As we talked, all of a sudden the contractor said, "I hear something."  "I hear it too," said the firefighter.  "It sounded like a meow!"

I felt like I was going to faint.  I rushed over to the hole in the wall, put my head next to the hole, and starting softly calling.  "Good Boy!  Good Boy!  Hey, buddy, remember me?"  The firefighter put the camera above and behind me, to see if he could pick up an image.

 

 

And then we all heard it.  Meowing.  Again. and again.  Every time I called to him we would hear it. Meowing!

To Be Continued ...