Ah, the move is over. Half of my belongings are in boxes. I have sorted through my beloved books and grabbed a enough to keep me satisfied for a few weeks until they are all shelved. I dropped major cash on new appliances and was gifted a pretty nice refrigerator (thanks Big Dave!). Going from my pretty nice apartment to a rental house means I have to go buy a bunch of stuff I don't even think of until the moment I need it. The major upside is now I have a backyard for growing my veggies and a garage to do my woodcarving. The opportunities are endless.
The move was stressful to most of us. My son is always cool calm and collected and I don't think his pulse budged. Kiska and myself were a wreck and the recovery continues. I feel like I'm hungover from stress. I had two days of stressful moving with a time crunch since my old apartment was and probably will screw me over (full months rent for 2 days into October? See you in court I guess) I also worked two overtime jobs until 3 am both those days because of the above referenced crap I have to pay for. The alarm went off this morning to go to work. My semi-subconscious was all "screw that noise" and emailed my boss saying blah blah vacation day. Next think I know, It's 2 pm. Oh well, I needed the rest.
This is nothing compared to Kiska's stress, however. Kiska is our cat. She is a rescue that I got my son for his birthday early this year. Kiska Jacksonovna. My son has a serious interest in Russian and Soviet culture, history and language. According to the internet, Kiska either means kitty cat or is a vulgar slang for a woman and her special area. I was not able to truly determine this, but I figure there are not many Russian speakers around so who's going to know?
Kiska was FREAKED OUT. Kiska is strictly an indoor cat and has never actually been outside. People are mean to cats, so why risk letting her get hurt. We had to put her in a box to take her to the new house first, before the movers arrived. She did not care for this at all and made sounds that made me wonder is she was going to spit pea soup at me when I opened the box (Exorcist? Get it?). The car ride was just as bad. We got her in and locked her in the spare bedroom with her food, water and litter box.
The movers come and go and I go to check on her. I can't find her. What the heck? Finally, I find her in the back of her enclosed litter box with a very displeased look on her face. She was terrified. Kiska, you see, is a very gentle cat. She is was easy with the claws when she plays, generally comes when you call for her, and isn't really moody at all. She's a good cat. It was Friday when this happened and she is still skittish and jumpy. She has hardly left my side the entire time since the move.
This got me to thinking about animals and love. I am very gentle and caring with all animals, so she feels safe around me. I have had many cats and they usually hide when they are scared. This has not been the case with Kiska at all. She has slept with me all night since we have been here. I don't mean just in bed, but basically spooned me with her head resting on my armpit. All. Night. Long. I walk to another room, she follows. I leave or go outside, she waits by the door for my return. Even hours later, there she is waiting.
I have had dogs too and I know this is normal for them. Dogs have personality and souls. Cats are cats though. Feed me, pet me when I want it and where and want it but otherwise leave me the hell alone human. This is not the case with Kiska. She has always been sociable but not like this. I am her safe place. She is scared and knows I will protect her from whatever just happened. Is this not love? I'd love to know what is going on in her cat brain. This is similar to a child in some ways. Freaky new place or people? Latch on to dad. Maybe I am dad in this case.
Kiska and I have bonded for sure these last few days. We have grown in our relationship in many positive ways. I am a cat person for sure, but I have always known their limits as a pet. This has been a different experience though. Maybe, just maybe cats have souls as well?
P.S. Greeting Canadians! I see I have three views from the Great White North since I last looked. Take off, you hosers! (actually, don't take off at all, read more).
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