You should put up signs, they said.
My advice to them is to get some shares in Kinko's and 3M. And maybe Starkist.

Put up signs.
Why didn't I think of that?

Except that I did.
And if one more person tells me to put up signs, I'm going to kick him in the dingding.

Put up signs, so that everywhere I go in the nieghborhood I can see her little face staring at me from telephone poles and doorways.
Put up signs so she's looking at me when I'm trying to buy groceries.
So I can't come through the front door without her staring at me. Accusing me of not taking care of her, when I promised I would.

That same front door she wandered out of after 8 years with me. 8 years after my first week living on my own. 8 years that I wasn't alone, because the second week I went to the shelter and she picked me. She waddled into that little visiting room and hopped up on the bench beside me and kneaded my leg. Then she rolled around at my feet and I had to take her home.

She was never supposed to be out there. Someone left the doors open, and by the time I figured out she really wasn't under the bed, she'd gone. I was supposed to take care of her, and I don't know how she got out there or where she went. Maybe she really dies have magical powers.

I didn't abandon her. I think she abandoned me.

So I put out cans of tunafish. I poked around in alleys and backyards after dark, and I'm lucky I didn't get arrested or attacked (heh, I'd like to see them try). I shook the foodbag and called her name.

I put up signs and answered every call. I don't know when to give up, so I keep looking. Every tip that leads to nothing, every animal at the shelter that isn't her, every meow in an abandoned garage that isn't hers drives in another nail.

Friends and neighbors offer condolence and advice.
"Cats have amazing resources."
"I'm sure she'll find her way back when she's ready."
"You hear miracle stories all the time."
"Have you put up flyers?"