Laura was trying to take the cat to the vet today, to get it checked out and whatnot. Since we weren't expecting a cat, we didn't have a carrier. Laura attempted to fashion one out of a soft cooler. She, considerately, left an inch of the zipper open so the cat could breathe. That inch was enough room for a paw to open the flap and take off into the early evening darkness.
Ultimately it's not the worst thing in the world. One night with a cat in the house was enough for both Laura and I to realize that we're allergic to cats. Surprising for me, since I've never been allergic to anything in my life. And we were nowhere near prepared to have a new member of the family.
However, one night was enough for me to realize that I really want a cat. I never thought I'd say that, and my grandfather is rolling over in his grave (He often said, "The only good cat is a drowned cat," I just say my family is more a dog-family). But it's the perfect condo-dwelling, grad school pet. Not too much fuss, and a whole furry ball of affection. (An aside, I never had real pets as a kid, my dad was allergic to everything. He was barely able to tolerate a bird, and for a while, a hamster) So I'd be willing to cope with allergies and have a cat, they make claratin for a reason. But I definitely want to have a plan of action before we try adopting a pet again.