Moving Mayhem – Fuzzy edition

Virtual chocolate

OK, the image has NOTHING to do with the post, but it was one of those things that I just HADDA share.

Needless to say, the move was not without its bumps and snarls, and I still haven’t unearthed some of my stuff.  The big stuff came over a week ago Tuesday, so for a little better than a week now, I’ve been sleeping, showering, etc. at the new house.

Huzzah!  for owning (well, with the help of the bank!) the roof you sleep under!

First – the cats.  Mariko took the move OK.  She waltzed into her carry case like the royal queen she is, settled, and waited.  Spook, on the other hand, fought me tooth & nail.

The scars are healing nicely, BTW…

The car ride, brief as it was (it helps to be only moving a couple blocks down the way), was very vocal.  Neither cat enjoyed feeling the movement, and let me know in no uncertain terms EXACTLY how they felt about this atrocious treatment of their furhoods.

I walked both cat carriers down to the basement.  This is where we’re keeping that all-important litter box, and was a space in the house I could let the cats start to explore while all the moving was going on over their heads.  We decided to put nothing in the basement at this point, because we want to take out the old paneling and carpeting, and Chainmaille Central needs a VERY thorough cleaning.

So thorough, I’ve set up a shelf in the bedroom next to my desk and computer to maille in the meantime.   

Mariko gingerly walked out of her carrier, sniffing like a mad thing and talking up a storm.

Spook bolted out of his, then froze, every hair on end.

Mariko explored the basement, not able to keep still.

Spook dove behind the dryer and made himself as small as a 20 pound cat can make himself.

I stayed with both until the movers arrived, then left them locked in the basement.

Thumps, bangs, footsteps, weird noises – yea, I’m certain the cats were happy for the relative boringness of the basement at this point with all the racket going on upstairs.

Once the movers left, I opened the door to the basement.

Mariko was out and exploring this new level within minutes, pretty much mirroring her behavior in the basement – all over the place, very vocal, very excited.

Spook had yet to leave his ‘safe space’ behind the dryer.

In the late afternoon, I ended up pulling the counter away from the dryer so I could squeeze myself back there and dig him out.  I very carefully introduced him to the rest of the house, then let him decide for himself if he’d go back to his safe space.

He found another – under the couch in the living room, and was content to observe the goings-on from this secluded space.  He finally came out for lap time once we stuck a DVD in the player and were still for the evening.

It took both of them a good day+ to fully accept they had a new space to explore and live in.

Kitties aren’t built for moving around this Human world.

 

 

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Even the Cats are Artistic here

Now, I do have 4 furballs in residence here…

4 pack of cats

 

Each have their own cat-way of doing the things that it is cats do.

Mariko Dos Equis Box

Mariko is the talker of the bunch.  She’s ALWAYS got an opinion, and is happy to share.  She also likes to pick on Spooky, then comes running to one of the humans in the household when he ‘picks’ back.  Above all else…she needs to be the FIRST breathing thing in a room, so she always gets underfoot as she races to be upstairs and on the ledge before I’ve finished climbing up the stairs.

I’ve learned to look before I step 😀

 

Spook in sunshineSpooky is the proverbial rebellious teen.  If he wants to do something, no amount of chastising, yelling, stomping or finger-snapping is going to deter him.  He’ll continue to push the boundary until you get the water bottle out and squirt him with it…then be back in 5 minutes to start the cycle over again.  He is very much a cat, convinced of his own superiority, and lets the humans know this on an hourly basis.  He’s also not very user-friendly, and hates strangers.  Picking him up usually involves a hospital visit for the uninformed, as he uses teeth and claws with little to no provocation.

 

Illy RBFLillian, on the other hand, is not a cat…at least, she THINKS she’s not a cat.  Granted, she spends a lot of time on the ledge getting warm and sunshine-y… like a cat.  She grooms constantly… like a cat.  She likes laps and occasionally bats at catnip toys… like a cat.  But she is not, in her mind, a cat.  She doesn’t do cat things with the other cats.  They’ve learned this (more or less) for their own safety, because reminding Illy that she’s a cat usually involves a lot of very-much-cat caterwaulin’ and claws.  She also has the feline equivalent of RBF (Resting Bitch Face)

 

Henry in BagWhich leaves me with Henry.  Of all the cats, Henry had to be the one to go last in my lineup, because he won’t mind being at the back of the pack.  Where Lillian has RBF, Henry has a perpetual smile.  Henry can best be described as a Stoner cat, because he’s always happy and relaxed…unless the front door is opened.  Henry is also our little escape artist, because there’s got to be something real cool on the other side of our front door, and he can’t wait to share a bowl with whatever it is.

 

The four of them have been at the little cardboard scratching pad we’ve had in the house for claw exercises.  With all the stories lately about how deforming declawing a cat can be, I’m glad we made the decision to keep all paws intact, even though it does require a bit more maintenance on our parts keeping all 40 nails blunted.  Here’s what the cats have done to the one we really need to replace:

Smiley Face Scratching pad

Our furballs must be happy with us humans…the said so by scratching a smiley face into their pad.

 

Nothing to see here

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This weekend – the kids decided they were going to visit the family.  They planned to leave the house on Saturday, and stay overnight in either Beaver Dam or Watertown, and return Sunday afternoon/evening-ish, and thus return to the normal schedule of up Monday morning for work.

This meant I had the apartment to myself.  All to myself, with nary a soul (except the cats) to come between me and the elements.

Whatever would I do with my free time?  This is where most people trot out a list of things they’ve put off in hopes of having some free time.  Me…not so much.  I planned to do nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  In as few articles of clothing as possible.

Which means jammies – as it’s still NOT warm up here, and I’m a heat-miser.

Nothing is under-rated and unduly demonized in this country.  If you’re not doing something every second of every day, you’re a lazy, shiftless, aimless layabout dreamer, and you should be hauled out into the street and shot.

Well…that may be a tad harsh…

A-Pagoda

Very quiet pagoda

I enjoy nothing time.  The apartment is as it used to be – q.u.i.e.t.  No other voices…other than the occasional cat noise.  I can hear the silence, and the things below it.  Sometimes I’ll meditate to the silence…but not this weekend.  Meditation was far too ‘something’ for a nothing day.

I bounced around between some rather dreadful movies off Amazon Prime (to which I nodded off in my chair for a nap) to a bit of research on the ‘net, to a computer game.

I managed to sweep the floors.

Amused the cats for a spell.  Dangled some things, pointed the laser at the walls, stayed in my chair to become warm-blooded furniture.

Banged about on my keyboard for a bit, then erased what I’d written.  The muse wanted a jammie day too, so we relaxed together.  Never fear, she’ll prod me when she’s got an idea to share.

Ran out when I damn well wanted to for some foodstuffs…because that required clothing other than jammies.

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Be still…and watch the birdies.

Above all else, I enjoyed the silence of my apartment.

When did we disallow free time to just dream?  When did everything, even our free time, have to be spent doing SOMETHING?  Our world goes so fast – our lives speed up, and we attempt to go faster and faster and cram more and more into a single minute.

I think it’s time to slow down.