She’s determined to find her cat

Kris Stise, 32, is looking for her calico, Octavia.

Heartbroken, she has been searching for her cat in the Fishers neighborhood, Brooks Chase, for three weeks, caught in that heart-wrenching holding pattern between having a cat in a lap and a cat that’s gone missing.

I first saw her hoofing it down a 131st Street sidewalk. A rust-colored newsboy hat covered her head. Strapped to her was an oversized backpack. An olive-colored jacket covered her skinny frame, despite the punishing July heat. Her head oscillated, as if at Wimbledon. Just another pedestrian getting from point A to point B, with no real story to tell, I thought.

A couple days later, she walked by my house. The backpack was actually a netted cat carrier. No cat inside. I’m a cat guy. I notice such things.

The empty carrier made me realize she had a story to tell.

“I still do not know how she got out. We have theories like maybe she got into the garage because we had to take the trash cans in,” she says.

Posters are taped to light posts and mailboxes, sun-faded and ripped by the rain. Think Wild West wanted posters.

Missing Cat

Have you seen Me?

Octavia

Small cat with tortoiseshell coloring (black, brown and orange), yellow-orange eyes, a split down her face one side black, one side orange.

Reward: $100

“I raised her ever since she was really tiny. I love her to bits,” says Kris. “She’s my baby.”

I tell her my wife and I will add $100 to the reward. We are cat people. $200 now. How can we not fatten the kitty?

She dwells on the missing state of her cat almost nonstop.

“I think about how she’s so affectionate, how she loves being held, and how she likes climbing on shoulders,” she says. “I think about how silly she is and how she runs around and how she comes every morning and meows at me while I’m in bed, as if to say, ‘Hey, good morning, wake up.’ ”

She diligently scans the subdivision’s yards, grassy banks along strips of water, playgrounds, and cul-de-sacs. She navigates narrow streets with names plucked from American history textbooks: Freedom Drive, Old Glory Drive, Patriotic Way, Allegiance Drive, Republic Drive, Courage Crossing, All American Road. Passersby, aware of her plight, inquire of her luck. Neighborhood kids greet her, share their concern. She’s touched by their sincerity.

“Originally, I was out at all times,” she says. “Now I do it mostly in the morning and evening. They say that the peak times to look for lost cats are between midnight and two in the morning, and four in the morning to six. It’s really hard to get up during those times, but I’ve consistently been pretty good at it. I have a flashlight at night. I try to look for her face shine.”

Kris’ phone number appears on the posters. She’s received some calls. She has contacted animal shelters and resorted to social media. Strangers have tweeted helpful tips. Put the smelliest cat food outside. Put her litter box outside. Her blankets, too. A motion sensor light has been installed in her front yard.

“I’ve gotten a couple neighbor cats that come in the garage now,” she laughs. “I don’t mind if they eat her food. There’s this old wives’ tale: if you’re nice to the strays and you’ve lost your cat, they might bring it back to you.”

Several scammers have spread their slime, claiming to be “animal control.” We have your cat, she’s told. To get Octavia back, just enter a verification code and send gift cards, she’s instructed. Kris is too tech savvy to fall for such grifts.

Research tells that escaped house cats tend to stay close to home, but Kris worries about the unfortunate timing of Octavia’s initial disappearance. She went missing June 26. Fourth of July begins a week or so early in patriotic Brooks Chase. Fireworks and firecrackers can play havoc on a cat’s otherwise strong homing instincts. The offal is reportedly toxic to animals.

She regrets knowing Octavia doesn’t have a collar or ID tag and isn’t microchipped.

Three weeks now. Octavia remains a gone cat. Kris remains undeterred.

“For the first two weeks, I basically cried every day. I cried yesterday too, so it’s not done. It’s not like I’ve given up. I’m just more determined than ever to find her, but I also know that I can’t live like that,” she says. “I think about it all the time and I want to, like, always keep her in my memory because, say, I never find her. I never want to forget her. She’s that important. But I’m going to find her. Yeah, I’m determined. I’m determined to find my cat. If you see my sweet girl, please let me know. If you can find her and bring her back to me, it will mean the world to me.”

Since we last talked, I still see Kris Stise on the sidewalks, like a tightrope walker trying to sustain balance, still wearing her newsboy cap, her jacket, her empty cat carrier. I hope to stop seeing her. Well, except to hand over $100 as a cat rides her shoulders.

Contact Kris at Kstise237@gmail.com or Scott at scottsaalman@gmail.com.