Until now, I have never moved across country. As a matter of fact, I’ve never moved anywhere that’s not within 100 miles of my family. After my Mom died I moved back in with my Dad and have spent the past 2 years enjoying our beautiful family home with spacious kitchen and 6 bedrooms. I love the backyard with grape vines, peaches and blackberries in the back yard. Somehow, I figured it would be just as easy to move down the street as it is to move across country. Now I like to think that my nativity comes from my artificially blond hair and I’m not just stupid. But little did I know what moving cross country would really involve.
First of all, I have a dog named Cava. She’s the best yellow lab in the world. (Yes, I’m one of those crazy dog people that feeds their dog holistic dog food.) My fiancée loves the dog. As a matter of fact he will call and ask how “my dog” is doing, I think just to get my goat a bit. My fiancée also has a cat named Boo Boo. Did I mention that the only thing in the world that Cava hates is cats?
Thank GAWD that my company gave me a relocation package, paying for the move (one less thing to pay for). There was just the issue of getting there. Cava had taken car trips with me before but never for hours on end. The funny thing about the dog is that I don’t think she knows she’s a dog. When we go for car rides she jumps into the front seat (if available) and sits there, looking out the front window. That’s right… she never rides with her head out the window.
One day I thought that if she just tried it, she would love it. We rolled down my street at a snails pace. I quietly, sneakily rolled down the window, acting as nonchalant as I possibly could. I quickly shoved Cava’s head out the window with my right hand, steering the car with the other. After about 2 seconds she shook loose and gave me a look like I had lost my mind. I ended the battle of the open window right there. Why bother? I just turn on the AC and she’s happy as a clam.
Despite Cava’s distain for cats, I thought that after a while, a slight period of adjustment perhaps, that Boo Boo and Cava would learn to love each other. In the meantime, I’ve kept Cava on a leash or the two of them in separate rooms.
Yesterday I was unpacking yet another box in the kitchen when I heard a faint “meow”. I just figured that since Cava was out that the cat was in the laundry room (conveniently behind closed doors). About 10 seconds passed and I heard a louder “MEOW”. At the same time, Cava and I rose to our feet, both realizing that the cat was out. Cava and I left the kitchen, her going one way, me going another. I stopped when I saw the cat, Boo Boo, sauntering up the stairs with a big fat “MEOWWWW”.
Two seconds later, it was on. Cava started with a growl. The cat ran under the kitchen table and Cava followed, snarling and barking the whole way while the chairs at the table wobbled and moved as they passed. I followed, trying to catch Cava, yelling “no, no, no”. But, they were too fast for me. First they were down the stairs and then back up in a flash, the whole time Boo Boo had an expression if to say “what the hell just happened” and Cava was practically foaming at the mouth.
I finally caught Cava on second pass up the stairs; Boo Boo found a hiding place. Cava finally calmed down and I sat down at the kitchen table to catch my breath. I guess this is all part of that “adjustment period” that people talk about when you move in with someone. I just keep telling myself, it’s just like the Brady Bunch but with sans Marsha and sans maid. Just another adventure…
First of all, I have a dog named Cava. She’s the best yellow lab in the world. (Yes, I’m one of those crazy dog people that feeds their dog holistic dog food.) My fiancée loves the dog. As a matter of fact he will call and ask how “my dog” is doing, I think just to get my goat a bit. My fiancée also has a cat named Boo Boo. Did I mention that the only thing in the world that Cava hates is cats?
Thank GAWD that my company gave me a relocation package, paying for the move (one less thing to pay for). There was just the issue of getting there. Cava had taken car trips with me before but never for hours on end. The funny thing about the dog is that I don’t think she knows she’s a dog. When we go for car rides she jumps into the front seat (if available) and sits there, looking out the front window. That’s right… she never rides with her head out the window.
One day I thought that if she just tried it, she would love it. We rolled down my street at a snails pace. I quietly, sneakily rolled down the window, acting as nonchalant as I possibly could. I quickly shoved Cava’s head out the window with my right hand, steering the car with the other. After about 2 seconds she shook loose and gave me a look like I had lost my mind. I ended the battle of the open window right there. Why bother? I just turn on the AC and she’s happy as a clam.
Despite Cava’s distain for cats, I thought that after a while, a slight period of adjustment perhaps, that Boo Boo and Cava would learn to love each other. In the meantime, I’ve kept Cava on a leash or the two of them in separate rooms.
Yesterday I was unpacking yet another box in the kitchen when I heard a faint “meow”. I just figured that since Cava was out that the cat was in the laundry room (conveniently behind closed doors). About 10 seconds passed and I heard a louder “MEOW”. At the same time, Cava and I rose to our feet, both realizing that the cat was out. Cava and I left the kitchen, her going one way, me going another. I stopped when I saw the cat, Boo Boo, sauntering up the stairs with a big fat “MEOWWWW”.
Two seconds later, it was on. Cava started with a growl. The cat ran under the kitchen table and Cava followed, snarling and barking the whole way while the chairs at the table wobbled and moved as they passed. I followed, trying to catch Cava, yelling “no, no, no”. But, they were too fast for me. First they were down the stairs and then back up in a flash, the whole time Boo Boo had an expression if to say “what the hell just happened” and Cava was practically foaming at the mouth.
I finally caught Cava on second pass up the stairs; Boo Boo found a hiding place. Cava finally calmed down and I sat down at the kitchen table to catch my breath. I guess this is all part of that “adjustment period” that people talk about when you move in with someone. I just keep telling myself, it’s just like the Brady Bunch but with sans Marsha and sans maid. Just another adventure…
