I woke from a deep evening siesta to alarming news: Imli, our beloved cat, was missing. No one had seen her since noon and, strangely, her food lay untouched.

Imli’s disappearances are usual. Every time she disappears, she picks a new hiding spot, usually resurfacing within a few hours. This time felt different. She wasn’t responding to her favourite treats, familiar calls, or tempting smells. Then came thunder and torrential rain—her absolute worst nightmare. We held out hope she would emerge once the storm passed, but the rain stopped, dinner ended, and there was still no sign of her.

We searched every cupboard and dark corner indoors. We scanned CCTV footage, checked neighbours’ balconies and planters, alerted WhatsApp groups, and peeked under every car in the street. Parks, bushes, and alleyways were thoroughly explored.

As the night wore on, speculation took over. The most convincing theory? Someone had left the back door open, and Imli, ever the explorer, had slipped out, scaled the boundary wall, and dropped into the school next door.

Convinced she was trapped on the school grounds, my brother, my sister, and I launched a stealth operation just past midnight.

My brother and I approached the school security guard. He bluntly refused to let us in at first, but our anxious faces, desperate pleas, and a few cute photos of Imli eventually wore him down. Armed with flashlights, her favourite treats, and a bag of her litter, we combed the grounds—peering under school buses, searching storerooms, and flashing lights into every shadow. Nothing.

Meanwhile, back on our side of the wall, my sister was conducting her own high-risk mission. She clung precariously to the ledge, laying out treat trails while balancing on the brink of a fracture-inducing fall.

By 2am, defeated and exhausted, we called it off. The guard promised to keep an eye out and call us if she appeared.

We returned home heavy-hearted, consumed by guilt. How could we have failed to protect this helpless little creature we brought home with so much love? What if stray cats attacked her? What if it rained again? How would we ever find her in a vast school by daylight? Tortured by these thoughts, we finally drifted off.

Then, just as the bedroom lights went out, we heard it again. Meow. Continuous, loud, and right beside us.

We scrambled up and restarted the search inside the house. Opening a tightly shut cupboard, we found her. There sat Imli behind a stack of sarees, leisurely yawning. She hopped out, stretched lazily, and settled into her queenly pose, waiting to be served her late dinner. She looked up at us with gleaming eyes—completely oblivious to the midnight madness she had unleashed.

Who left the cupboard open? How and when did she slip inside? It remains a mystery. But this Meowission Midnight has secured its place in family lore. As for the lesson learned? In a game of hide-and-seek, the cat always wins.

The writer is a Chandigarh-based freelance contributor and can be reached at veenat333@gmail.com