Friday, June 12, 2009
Well, Cosette and I had a harrowing adventure this week: mom and us moved to another place. I must ask you to contain your horror until after you've read our story.
I know why we moved, but we didn't see it coming until we were shoved in our respective carriers and carted to who-knows-where.
In short, we were kit-napped.
I overheard mom saying weeks before that the "rent" was less expensive at this new place, and because the baby from China would require day care, that money would be better used toward day care than rent. (By the way, I must digress: this is another reason cats are superior to humans: we require very little care in the day.)
So here we are, a week later, adjusting to a new home that still does not have our scents adequately distributed everywhere. We get scared of watching people walking by our windows. And here's the thing: most of the windows do not have windowsills. Yesterday, I watched with pity as Cosette jumped on what she thought was a windowsill and she smacked into the glass and back onto the floor.
I think she was more embarrassed than physically hurt.
Anyway, what kind of interior designer designs windows without sills? Doesn't he or she know that cats are partial to sills?
Oh, and our first night over, we had a scare. A neighbor has a cat that hangs out outdoors, and it went up to our window and Cosette literally had a hissy-fit. The stray was a tuxedo cat, but it was definitely ugly. Not a handsome one like me.
Anyway, we think the cat was mocking us. No matter how Cosette puffed up and tried to scare it off, this cat wasn't budging until mom came up to the window and shooed it away.
The big advantage of this new place is the bay window, where Cosette and I love to sit and watch all sorts of prey....I mean, birds...roaming all over the place. We think this window is grander than a grand piano. Cosette also found a nifty spot on the couch that lays right under a window, thus creating a sort of windowsill of a type.
Cosette finished her last round of pills to help her better digest food. She seems to be feeling much better, and has thanked mom by leading a huge turdbomb in the litterbox.
That was funny.
Basically, we nap comfortably, and we are enjoying our new digs, even though we are not digging those whackodoodle windows or the scruffy next-door-neighbor cat that looks like a cross between Oscar the Grouch and a mop.
Gradually, we are leaving our scent marks all over the place, so we can eventually call this place Home, Sweet Home.
Meow for Now,