Progress report... We've packed up all the little things we'd left on the last trip – a few changes of clothes, pet things, forgotten this and that. As I write this, Debbie's off on some errands and a goodbye lunch with a close friend. When she returns, we'll be stuffing our two pickups full of the boxes we packed, tying it all down, then going to bed early to prepare for an o'dark thirty departure in the morning.
The pets are looking quite confused. The dogs wander around as if asking us just what the hell is going on. Race (our border collie) in particular looks concerned each time a box goes out the door, and the house gets a little emptier. The cats, other than Jahaur (our Savannah cat), seem to spend most of their time searching out new hiding places as we methodically eliminate all their old ones. Jahaur is in some sort of denial, we think. He comes out of the bedroom, sees how we've laid waste to the house, and runs back into the bedroom to hide under the bed.
Little do the cats know that things are going to get much, much worse in the morning. We've got five cat carriers lined up in the living room. The three kittens, all tightly bonded, will go into one. Koa and Kama, also tightly bonded, will go into another. Then Jahaur, Maka Lea, and Kapua will each get their own carrier. It's easy to predict that the yowling and lamentations will be (a) loud, and (b) heart-rending. The level of cat distress will be at about 17 on a 1-10 scale. And that's when they're still in the house! Once they're in the car, and the car is moving, we're expecting the volume to increase considerably, and that various foul fluids and solids will be ejected – some at high velocity – from all three orifices on each of eight cats. That's twenty-four foulness emitters in total.
Debbie will be driving that vehicle. I will be in our other truck with the four dogs, who will be asleep with a look of utter happiness and contentment on their mugs. It will be quiet and peaceful, and the worst olfactory event I expect is an occasional dog fart. Debbie is driving the “cat truck” because we're both certain that if I was driving, the four newest cats (who still won't let me approach them) will be even more distressed. Probably the only way I can really help is to be sympathetic when Debbie calls me, which I expect her to do quite frequently.
It's going to be a long day tomorrow. I suspect it will also be a day that severely tests Debbie's attachment to felines...