The move is FINALLY done. Finished up a few days ago. I haven't posted about it until now because it's been non-stop busy trying to make sense of the new place - moving stuff around, digging through boxes trying to find things I need in the moment, working a little at a time to empty boxes and make workable space mainly in the kitchen and bathroom, getting critters situated so their routine is somewhat normal again...and still going to work every day in the process.
The day of the final push of the move finally came and it went well...moving the 'stuff' that is. The two guys who came to do it - sweetest guys EVER got it done in record time. Their time and effort was a God send for sure. The day did 'not' go off without a hitch, however.
Trying to get pets moved left a lot to be desired. Right off the bat I lost one of my cats. I made the plan to put cats in carriers and have them ready about a half hour before the guys were due to arrive that morning. I got two of them in carriers without a problem. BUT...one of the others got spooked by what he saw as commotion, slipped the confines and shot straight out the door. I had the front door open stacking some things out on the patio and the kitties in another room. He took off in the under brush on the property next door and I never saw him again. I looked for him all day, hoping he may find his way back. He didn't. He won't make it out there.
He's been an inside only kitty since he was born. At 3 years old, only knowing food, shelter and protection from a miserable life outside, it's not good. A coworker who picks me up and takes me home for work every day has graciously driven me through and around the old place a few times since to see if maybe he's shown back up there. It's turned up nothing. He's gone. I'm still sick about it. What should have been a happy day to finally get the move done was marred by that. I was happy and relieved to be done with it all, but that loss made the day a little tougher than it should have been.
Another cat that was NOT happy about trying to be put into a carrier that day turned into the Tazmanian Devil...and all hell broke loose. I tried every which way from Sunday to coax him in. He wasn't having it. I ended up chasing him all over the apartment. I'd have him cornered and then he'd give me the slip again. Up the stairs, down the stairs, over and over again. He never tired and only got more wound up and freaked out. I thought I finally had him when he jumped up on the top of the stove in the kitchen, cornering himself against the refrigerator. I grabbed him by the scruff so he couldn't tear me up in the process. Boy, was I WRONG. Terrified out of his mind, he flipped himself around, hooked his claws into the back of my upper arm and then sank his teeth in the side of my forearm. It was not pretty. When he bit me, I dropped him and he, too, shot straight out the door as the guys were carrying stuff out. They dropped what they had and took off running after him. One of them ran back inside to get the carrier and something to throw over him. A little blanket happened to be handy. They ran after him all the way around the building, arms a flailing, fur flying, and calls for "FUDZY!! FUDZY!!" HEEEEERE KITTY, KITTY, KITTY!!!". Fudzy ran into a vacant apartment two doors down where workers just happened to be painting and the doors were open. They caught him there by throwing the blanket over him stopping him in his tracks, and were able to wrap him up tight enough to get him in the carrier without a fight. It scared the living daylights out of me but it was funny at the same time watching these guys run after the cat. It was like something straight of an I Love Lucy episode. I tended to my wounds at the kitchen sink and we hauled the next load with kitties in tow.
The dogs. The dogs were a tad bit confused and over excited about all the commotion as well. I saved moving them for the last load so that we weren't trying to work on keeping them inside the new place while we were unloading and going in and out. I moved the kitties on the first load going in the morning to get them set up in one of the bathrooms with all their stuff so they could settle into that space with familiar things and not be anymore freaked out than they already were by their lives suddenly being turned upside down and the ensuing trauma. I couldn't put the dogs in with them because they'd have only barked non stop, scratching at the door trying to get out, traumatizing the cats even more and destroying a door. I don't have crates for the dogs. There's never been room for them and both dogs are too old to try to adjust to them at this point. So, moving them at various planned out stages of the move was the best way I knew to do it.
It was finally time to take the last load and put the dogs in the truck. I had put harnesses on them early in the day so they would be accustomed to them by the time they made the ride and know they were going somewhere shortly. I put the leashes on and all was great until we stepped out the door. BOTH of them wriggled around, turning themselves inside out, twisting and flipping themselves around, slipping the harnesses. They took off running. Those same two guys took off running AGAIN to catch dogs this time. Those two crafty, smart alecky dogs thought all this was funny and made a game out of it. Here we are out in the parking lot, truck loaded down, ready to go and the dogs think it's play time. I told the guys to hold back and just wait for them to come back. They only run faster and further when chased. Mr. Big did eventually come back on his own and let one of the guys pick him up and put him in the truck. Charlie...not so much. The guys had to resort to chasing him again and finally caught him on the other end of the property. They carried him back and put him in the truck with all the stuff and the rest of us. We were FINALLY on our way for the very last time. Those guys are my heros!
All these critters taking off running outside, headed straight toward a busy street took 10 years off my life and gained a whole lot more gray hair that day. The trauma of this was overwhelming for them. The last time I moved 7 years ago, Charlie and Mr. Big were only a year old and I had one kitten at the time. So where we've been all these years is literally all they've ever known and suddenly it all got turned upside down. They had no clue what was headed their way or what was happening while it was happening. I knew it was going to be difficult, but I did not bargain for all the extra drama on top of it that day.
Poor little Fudzy wouldn't come out of his carrier for the next 5 hours. I finally nudged him out that evening. He stayed frozen behind the toilet for the next few hours. I saw him finally come out of the bathroom in the middle of the night, but he holed up in a tiny cubby behind some boxes in the livingroom and stayed there for another day. I knew he'd relax and come out eventually. He did and he's been fine ever since. Finally getting hungry enough will do that. Butterbean calmed down by the afternoon, made herself at home and was playing with her "yubberband" and the ball track toy that evening. Speedy stayed under the couch for a couple of days, only coming out to eat and to go to the litterbox in the bathroom. He's fine now, too. The dogs adjusted pretty quickly. They stuck close to me for the first couple of days, following me every minute until they figured out they weren't going anywhere again. They all do a lot of snooping and sniffing and checking things out. They're all pretty much back to their normal routines and life carries on.
As far as the cat bite goes, it hasn't been too long since my last tetanus vaccine. I've taken meticulous care of it and it's healing nicely. Cat bites are dangerous. They are bacteria filled nasty things that can turn septic in a heart beat. People die from cat bites every day thinking it was nothing, didn't take care of it and turned septic to the point of no return. It's NOT something to play with or ignore. I'm fortunate that even dealing with feral cats all these years, I haven't been bitten and the knowledge I have of properly dealing with them has protected me. My very own docile, sweet little house baby turned on me in the blink of an eye because he was terrified out of his mind...and rightfully so. I just didn't anticipate the level of trauma he was feeling and it totally flipped on me. I do NOT want any of us to go through this again.
Bunny, the cat that got away still weighs heavily on me. He is terrified of people. This won't be one of those "Oh, somebody will find him, take him in and give him a good home" situations. Not happening. His chances of survival out there beyond a month or so are ZERO. Contrary to popular belief, cats do NOT instictively know how to take care of themselves out there if they're suddenly faced with it. I won't go on here about the multitude of challenges a cat trying to survive "out in the wild" faces. It's not pretty. It's grim and very sad. I'll forever hold the guilt of handing him his death sentence that day. That's the reality of it.
The move is complete now. The majority of us made it to the new destination relatively unscathed and in one piece. Lots to do to set up housekeeping. The cats love the empty boxes as they become available. The dogs love the fries when I order Whataburger for delivery amid the mess of unpacking and finding our way. I love the peace of knowing it's done finally and we are all in a better place now. Sleep comes easier and lasts longer. The dread is gone. I can plug in Neil Diamond or George Jones and find that happy place in the midst of it all.
So many thanks to the extra hands of effort, time, and the wherewithall to keep me going when it seemed so dark, daunting, and hopeless at times. Without you, we wouldn't be where we are now. I love you...always.
It's an adjustment for all of us, but we'll get there. A little at a time.
~ Here's a little video of Butterbean deciding that the scary, trauma, drama filled day wasn't so bad after all. 🩷
No comments:
Post a Comment