Whew. Let me just say, moving with an 8-month-old pup and a cat who doesn’t like change is exhausting. But we made it!
The big move took place on Friday. We crated Scout while the movers lugged our stuff to the van, and locked Zoey in the bathroom. She was not pleased. She cried and cried the entire time the guys moved our stuff, those horrible “whoa-is-me” kind of cries that break your heart. But we stuck with it, and let her out once the men were done. The apartment was practically empty save for the odds and ends they wouldn’t take (apparently you have to have everything in closed boxes–using your cloth grocery bags for odds and ends doesn’t cut it). Zoey acted like everything was normal. It was kind of funny. She just rubbed herself on the carpet and purred. No big deal! That is until later on that night, when we tried to put her in the cat carrier we bought. I’ve got three nice little scratch marks across my wrist where her back claws got me. It took B and I both to get her in the carrier, and her wails were really horrible to listen to. But about five to 10 minutes into the drive, the pheromone packet in the top of the carrier must have kicked in, and boy, did it make a believer out of us. I for one wasn’t expecting much, but she barely let out a peep once it started working. We were impressed. We got her home and put her in the master bedroom with the door closed without incident.
The first night at the new place was less than stellar. For whatever reason, Scout could not settle down. She had been at the new house longer than Zoey (we brought her over when we met the movers to unload the truck), and she’d spent the day playing with Ranger in the backyard. We figured she’d be happily tired, but apparently the thought of us actually sleeping at this new place had her completely wigged out. She must have thought we were only taking day trips here, like the dog park. She cried until we turned out the light, and then that stopped, but she was up and down all night, and B and I barely slept. Zoey, on the other hand, was thrilled out of her mind to be out of the carrier, and walked all over us, bathing our arms whenever they poked out of the covers, and basically cementing the fact that we weren’t going to get an ounce of sleep Friday night. Mission accomplished, pet-children!
By Saturday morning, Zoey was feeling surprisingly comfortable. We let her out of the bedroom and B left to run some errands. Scout and I spent some time in the kitchen trying to unpack and find things (which must be the most annoying part of moving). Suddenly, Scout started barking up a storm–and that’s when I learned that this house has awesome acoustics. Seriously awesome. I felt like her snout was directly next to my eardrum it was so loud. And somewhere between 7 and 8 months Scout has found her grown-up bark, because these were not some adolescent gasps. These were full on, holy smokes-this-is-bad kind of barks. I immediately went to the back door, and there was the culprit: a duck, lazily walking through our yard. Ah, yes. New reality: lake=ducks. But this was the first duck Scout had ever seen, and she was seriously freaked out. The hair on her back was standing on end, so that she looked like she had a mohawk, which would have made me laugh except that it was 7 a.m. and I wasn’t sure if these acoustics carried to our neighbors or not.
I could not get her to stop. The duck was the most disturbing thing Scout had EVER SEEN. She became very protective. She would run to the back door, barking her head off, and then run back into the kitchen and sit right at my feet, between me and the back door. It was like she was saying, “Mom, there is an alien in the yard. Don’t worry, I’ve spotted it, but don’t go out there!” I finally had to work my way outside (while Scout watched from the door with this look on her face like, Are you insane?!) and shoo the duck off. These ducks are very domesticated. The thing barely even noticed me. I’m out in the grass in pajamas and bedroom slippers trying to shoo this duck out of the yard while my puppy is inside, barking like I’m being mauled, and it’s not even 8 a.m. yet. I need a nap, and breakfast, and for the rest of the ducks in the neighborhood to steer clear of our yard for the next 48 hours for my head to stop ringing.
B took care of the breakfast. The ducks did manage to avoid our yard for the rest of Saturday and Sunday, though when they went into our neighbor’s backyard that was also cause enough for a barking spell. Scout has surprised us with how protective she’s gotten during this adjustment period. It’s obvious she is just learning this new environment. Though she was much more comfortable on Sunday, she did bark at a butterfly while outside. Lol. Apparently she’s never seen one before! It’d never occurred to us.
So we’re all settling in and beginning to adjust. This morning on our walk Scout managed not to bark at the plethora of ducks out in everyone’s yards, though we did have to stop and stare at them every few feet. Who knows, maybe in another month or so she’ll be friends with them. They certainly aren’t afraid of our neighbor’s cats–we saw them in the yard co-mingling together!