One of the really fun parts of moving is getting your pets acclimated to the new place.
In my case, two factors have made that process far more stressful for my four furballs — Rose, a 60-pound German shepherd mix; Lily, a 13-year-old long-haired tortoiseshell; Dante, a 10-year-old red tabby; and Opal, a 6-year-old short-haired tortie.
1. It was our third move
in two months.
I was given a 30-day window to move out of my first Harbor home, where we had all resided for a year. As I was unable to find a new home within that time, my friend Dan was kind enough to let me and the furballs move in with him temporarily.
Dan’s cat, Buddy, was not happy about this turn of events. There was a whole lot of growling and posturing on both sides, and some fur flew, though no blood was spilled. We figured I’d be there less than 30 days, but (as my regular readers may recall) it took far longer than that. Eventually, Dan’s landlord forced us to find other lodging.
A few days later, I settled into a motel in Centralia, and my brothers in Seattle took Rose so she wouldn’t have to be cooped up in such a tiny space with no place to run. Once again, the kitties had to adjust to a new home. Living in a single room together, with lots of foot and car traffic noise, quickly made all three stir-crazy.
We stayed there for several weeks before I finally got the keys to my dream house. But the fun wasn’t over yet.
2. Two new fuzzy family
members were added to the mix.
When I moved into the house in Hoquiam, Rose was thrilled to be reunited with all of us (and vice versa). She also loved the big backyard. And the cats were ecstatic having more room to spread out; after the initial shock, each quickly staked out a favorite nap spot far from the others.
But there was a new element: My son and his dog, River, moved in with us the same day.
Still a puppy at about 10 months, River desperately wants to play with Rose and the cats. All the time. Not surprisingly, the kitties don’t much like being mouthed and pawed at by a 40-pound pup, but no amount of hissing or face-smacking will convince her to quit trying. And for her part, Rose either plays along or lets River know quite clearly that she’s not in the mood.
This situation is temporary; my son is planning to move down to California before too much longer. In the meantime, we’re both playing referee.
The other addition is Buddy, who also was evicted about that time by Dan’s landlord. Buddy is a very sweet boy when it comes to his humans; he will literally climb up into my arms to be held and petted. But he’s still convinced he should be the only cat in the household.
So, once again, we’re dealing with a whole lot of growling and posturing on both sides. Some fur is still flying, and small amounts of blood (and some urine) have been spilled. I’m really hoping this will work itself out eventually.
But it seems there might be a limit to that “crazy cat lady” thing after all.
Kat Bryant is lifestyle editor of The Daily World. She’s still not receiving mail at her house, in case you were wondering. Reach her at kbryant@thedailyworld.com or on Facebook at Kat Bryant-DailyWorld.
