This past weekend I managed to move my cats to Ferndale, something I hope to never, ever (ever) have to experience again. After a recent trip to the vet, I found myself armed with about 10 kitty sedatives. She said to start with half if a pill during a trial run the weekend before and go from there. Considering Tobias and Lucy weigh in at 19 and 14 pounds respectively, the half of a pill caused them to be semi-drowsy for about three hours.
So, at 10 a.m. Saturday I loaded them each up with a full pill. I anticipated this knocking them out nicely and remained confident that I would get the cats, some boxes and myself into the car, on the road and to Detroit in plenty of time for a Nistorical 6 p.m. wedding at the Guardian Building downtown.
It's harder to get out the door with a car full of boxes, cat carriers and enough different kinds of clothing, shoes and coats for a wedding, three days of work and more. The cats were stumbling like half-drunk toddlers but as soon as they were forced into their plastic carriers, the yowling began. Tobias sounds like a human child crying and groaning and Lucy tries to follow suit but fails in the noisy department. Thank god. One was enough.
By the time I made it downtown for a quick stop at my office, it was clear that we all were in for about 4 1/2 hours of torture if I didn't do something. One at a time, I took them into the lobby of my building, as the security guard warned me the owner would be none too pleased with cats in the building, then proceeded to make googly faces at each cat as I struggled for nearly 20 minutes to administer more sedatives. I gave Fat 1 a whole one, since he practically weighs more than Claire and I gave Fat 2 another half. We were on the road by noon -- 1 Michigan time. It was not looking good for that 6 o'clock wedding downtown.
I kind of ruled with the driving, however, and I pulled into Ferndale around 5 p.m.
I only had about 20 solid minutes of quiet, but it was better than nothing and much appreciated. It turns out I should have played Smoking Popes on the front speakers only about three hours earlier and maybe I would have had a quieter ride.
Like superheroes, Daniel and I sprang into action and managed to get the litter box, food and water bowls set up, fool around and get dressed for the wedding. We pulled up in front of The Guardian at 6:01 and had a lovely time. It was a perfect and amazing wedding.
We capped off the night with some fun at the Blowout, which led to a fuzzy and late morning, not helped by the time change. The cats had settled in nicely however (full-blown addicts after the extra sedatives and the catnip I didn't put away during our rush to get to the wedding...). They were relaxed and primed for the attack of the Bear.
She proceeded to crawl around like a cat for the first couple of hours and, two days later, still seems excited and enthused by her new cats. Just this morning we cracked open the bathroom door to find Claire not only out of bed, but on the floor playing with the cats. This just seems to be working out for all parties involved.
Besides the actual move, I'm preparing to officially shack up with someone for the first time. While all signs point to success, the cramped quarters are a bit worrisome. Surely they won't cause too many stresses and rifts, right?
We're just wondering exactly how long it will last that he sweetly wakes me up by rubbing my back and arms, and when I finally wake up, I begin my slow rise with a big ol bear hug. So far we're at two days and counting...
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