The disappearing feline

I had to get the entire front part of my interior packed up because the changes I'm having made requires the entire upper and lower dash to be removed to run new air lines and such. This took an hour or so and the rest of my truck is looking like a salvage yard, but I'll manage.

Snow White and I moved into a room at a nearby hotel for the night. She was freaked out a bit, but eventually was quiet and I plugged away at my computer for a while.

Quiet. Too quiet.

I realize I hadn't seen or heard her in a few hours and glanced around the room. No cat.

Look under the bed. No cat.

Move the chest of drawers and night table around to peek behind. No cat.

Look in the (smallish) bathroom. No cat.

I was afraid that maybe there was a hole large enough in the air conditioning unit in the window that she could squeeze into and somehow get outside, but I checked that thoroughly as well. No cat.

I went down the hall to the front desk and told them I had basically tossed their room and couldn't find my cat. If they saw a 6-pound pure white cat rampaging around contact me.

Still no cat.

I looked everywhere. Under the sink to see if she was balanced on the pipes. Behind the TV. In my luggage. The pillows. The sheets and comforters from both beds.

No cat.

Both beds have wooden frames enclosing the bottom but I checked those just in case for holes she could have squeezed through. No cat.

Getting desperate, I moved the top part of each bed off of its base and looked underneath. Scored some naughty magazines and an empty-yet-messy bottle of baby food (there's a combo). But no cat.

Finally, I lifted the base of one bed up and looked underneath. There was a lattice of steel springs and wood slats with a thin, gauze-like covering with some holes torn in it.

Found cat.