Perhaps he had an urgent rescue mission on the other side of the planet, or maybe a news assignment for The Daily Planet.
Maybe he’d grown tired of the company of those two female felines in the office.
Maybe he was piqued when his newsroom compatriot, Lois Fe-lane, was tapped to write the guest editorial for the Spur Homecoming issue last month.
Maybe he sprang from the building in hot pursuit of a bad guy.
Or maybe he just needed a bit of R&R at the Fortress of Solitude.
Whatever the case, mild-mannered Clark Cat, the gray striped tabby who’d taken up residence in our newsroom in spring 2019, pulled a disappearing act October 7 when the back door was briefly left open.
We didn’t know that invisibility was one of his superpowers, but we haven’t spotted him since.
He’s a mostly white shorthair tabby with a gray striped fur cape. His four boots are white. He wears a collar with an AKA tag. He’s up to date on his shots. And he’s been rendered, um, incapacitated—by the vet, you understand, not by Kryptonite.
It’s apparent that his days in the newsroom, with an ample supply of Meow Mix at his disposal, have not done his waistline any favors.
So what might prompt a well-fed, 12-pound cat with his run of the shop, and a boss who’s a good deal friendlier than Perry White, and plenty of interesting visitors, to light out for the territory?
One theory is that he simply decided to follow his bliss.
Another is that he’s such a likeable sort that once he’d lost his way out in the big world of Spur, someone recognized right away that a Supercat might make a perfect pet, and invited him in.
Still another member of the staff suggested that Clark Cat, upon getting a whiff of fresh air and freedom, is out living his best life among Spur’s feral felines and scores of strays.
If that’s the case, we wish him well. A cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do.
But if you should happen to spy him giving chase at super speed or streaking through the sky like a bird—no, after a bird—please let us know. We’ve had a few reports already after our Facebook APB, but none has yet yielded the right animal. (Please forgive us if we’ve driven by your front yard slowly or shone a flashlight into your vacant downtown building of late.)
Clark, things ain’t the same around here without ya. You need to get yourself back here, pull your eyeglasses out of your pocket, and sit yourself down at the typewriter. Or we’ll have to give that story to Lois.
And besides, who’s gonna to take care of all the mice around here?
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