New Home

Oh no!!! I wrote this last night, but was having problems with the internet and kept closing down the computer and rebooting. In the meantime, word, of course, went bye bye and I forgot all about it! Sorry I'm late.

Well we’re here and we sorta have internet. This is the same problem that I was having before I moved. It’s the laptop, refusing to hook up to the router. It also keeps telling me that a network cable is unplugged? Huh? There’s no cable hooked up to it, nor has there ever been. Oh well. Also, at about 8:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. it refuses to hook up at all. When my money comes in from the house sale I’m going to have to have it looked at.

The move was traumatic for the cats. First, BooBear was closed up in the bathroom. Bubba and Aidan were put in the Master bedroom and then when the guest room was cleared out, they were moved there. Bubba does not like to be closed up in a room without a human, but we had to do it to keep them from running out the propped open front door. We made a couple of runs from the house to the apartment. We were so tired that we decided to get the cats, go home and then come back the next day to finish up. My niece and her husband were coming to pick up and store the things for my brother so we had to be there anyway. I took a last look around in the closets and noticed something way back on the shelf in the Master. It was a small box. I took it down, opened it up and cried. You see, my mother had this habit of buying gifts, hiding them and then forgetting about them. She’d obviously bought this before the Alzheimer’s set in. I knew it was for me – it was a Purrfect Friends cat tile. It’s beautiful. I didn’t have long to linger over it as the crowd arrived to pick up Dave’s stuff. Then they were gone. Bebo and I put the last few things in our cars and I sent Bebo ahead so I could take a last look around the house alone. It echoed around me and in those echoes I could hear laughter and tears; in the rooms ghosts reached out to me. I stopped at the wall that separated the den from the kitchen. Resting my hand on the paneling, I stood for a moment. You see, when we moved in there, the paneling wasn’t on this particular section of wall. This was where my parent’s measured my growth with penciled lines on the wall. They were still there, underneath the paneling dad installed in the mid-80s. Stepping outside, I looked at the sidewalk my dad put in around that time, the sidewalk where he wrote our names: David (my brother’s step-son), James, Eric, Jenni Lynn and me. I said goodbye to the feral cats – especially Little One, the most friendly. Locking the house, I went next door to say goodbye to Gwen (having said goodbye to Debbie the day before). And then I got in my car, backed out of the drive and stopped at the sound of a shout. The man across the street stepped out from his garage and waved “goodbye”. The people on the corner did the same thing. Ernie on the corner called me over and I stopped. He said goodbye, gave me a hug and sent me on my way. I cried most of the way to the apartment. BooBear was still hiding – on Saturday he had found the bed and crawled under it, not coming out until dark and then back under Sunday morning. He was still under the bed, but Aidan was no longer hissing at Bubba. Bubba took the move just fine, exploring and jumping in boxes. Now a week later, they are all doing fine and adjusting to the constraints of the loss of running room.

I’ll tell you more about the move and the new apartment next time.