While I was at JazzFest there was an incident back home in Baltimore. Our beloved kitty, Pickle was missing! He didn’t come home the night I left for JazzFest. When I checked with my pet sitter later in my time away she told me he’d been missing for five days and my son, Henri was beside himself. No matter what he, my pet sitter and my husband did, they couldn’t find Pickle anywhere. Calling out his name, searching, leaving food and treats around our property were all of no avail. My friend and assistant at the show, Sally (pictured above), told me I should call a pet psychic to try to find him. Though I thought it seemed a little silly, what did I have to lose? At that point I didn't care what kind of voodoo magic had to happen to get him back home. So in the spirit of NOLA, I called the psychic Sally knows from back in Delaware. The psychic said, “tell me his name, about his personality, where he likes to wander off to and I’ll contact him”. Within half an hour, Pickle was back home and munching from his food bowl. What a relief! Lesson learned: always have an open mind!