It would be an angel

If you gave wings to a cat, it would not condescend to be a bird. It would be an angel.
~ Dick Shawn

I headed out on my walk last night, and when I was about a half mile from home, the cell phone in my pocket chirped. I pulled it out and answered it, and it was Bob (of course). He said, "Listen to this."

"Dinah? Where's Willa?"

"MrrrrrrOWWWWWWW."

"Dinah? Where's Willa?"

"MrrrrrrrOWWWWWWWWWW."

Bob said that about five minutes after I left, he heard Dinah start howling, and he came downstairs to see what was wrong. She was sitting in front of the front door, howling and scratching at the door, and when she saw him, she acted like she thought he was there to open the door for her so she could go out and find me.

I asked him if she does that when I go to work in the mornings, and he said no. Apparently it's okay if I go out through the garage and get in the car and leave, but if I leave by the front door, she thinks I should come right back, like I do if I go out to get the newspaper or water the flowers. Or maybe she sees me walk off down the sidewalk and then worries when I don't immediately come back into sight.

I guess she eventually stopped howling, because by the time I got home about an hour later, she was lying in the front window keeping watch. The cats like to have everyone home and accounted for. They are obviously happy and relieved when I come home from my walk, and when I go upstairs to sit in Bob's office and talk to him and cool down with a bottle of water, they always follow me and flop down on the floor next to me, and look at me as if to say, "It's about time you got home, we were worried!"