- July 8, 2007 -
Moving Sorcha was my first priority this morning. Home isn't quite home without a wandering gray furball. She cried and howled after I stuffed her into the pet carrier, but was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive. At the condo, she sniffed around and once she realized that I and all of "her stuff" were here, she settled in.
Then she discovered the bedroom window. Sorcha is not an acrobatic jumper like many cats are. She wanted to get up on the ledge, but it was too tall for her talents and she could not for the life of her figure out how to tackle the problem. It was hysterical and pathetic all at once, so when I made the second trip to the apartment I was sure to grab my folding stool to put under the window for her. I'll have to look for some cat stairs.
When I arrived back from that second trip (to retrieve my clothes so I can go to work tomorrow), she was clearly the lady of the house, jumping into my suitcases as I unpacked, refusing to come in from the balcony, stretching out right smack in the middle of the room as though she owned it.
She's a great cat.
Sorcha Comes Home
Sorcha spent yesterday morning locked in the bathroom while the movers took the furniture. When we finally set her free, she looked stunned. "Where did all my stuff go?" she seemed to ask as she cautiously surveyed the empty apartment. We left her there while we dealt with the movers at the condo. When we made a trip back later that afternoon, her greeting was piteous and sorrowful. She spent one last night there, since we just didn't have time to move her yesterday.
yesterday
tomorrow