"Spencer!" I yelled, my anxiety over the missing cat causing me to forget about Mrs. Mets one floor above me.
Where had the damn cat gone? And what smelled?
If he wasn't on top of the fridge, he had to be hiding somewhere. But with everything moved out of the apartment, there weren't many spots for him to stay for long. I opened the cupboard under the sink and stuck my head in.
No cat.
Next came the cupboard behind it. A waft of dirty gym socks came with the closing door.
Nothing.
The last two were also empty although I found a half-eaten jelly bean at the back of the first one. It must have been the licorice flavor I'd tossed out after almost dying from the disgusting taste. I wasn't brave enough to touch it and confirm.
"Damn it, Spencer." Why did this cat do this to me? And
