Plum Crazy

Yesterday was moving day, and what a hassle it was. I'm exhausted. But forget about me. Adding more to the claim that cats are of no use in moving was Emma freaking out after the place was emptied of stuff. I had kept her and Jane in the bathroom while the movers were doing their thing. Didn't want them sauntering out the front door and deciding to take a stroll down First Avenue or something. Once I let her out, she goes to the living room, stands stock still, ears completely perked up, eyes as wide as saucers, turning her head frantically from left to right. She then runs into the bedroom and proceeds with the same act. Repeat 10 or so times. I guess she figured that maybe the next time she walked into the room, the stuff would magically reappear. After it dawned on her that it just wasn't coming back, she started stalking around hissing at random, an action she has not ceased since we got to my friend's apartment.

Jane, on the other hand, took a far more sensible approach to the whole thing. After doing the Emma thing a couple of times, she decided it just wasn't worth it and went back to hiding in the bathtub. Since arriving at my friend's, she has holed up in the back of the closet, emerging only for the occasional snack and bathroom break. She may be the original scaredy-cat, but she is more well-adjusted.

I imagine we'll get a repeat of the Emma performance once arriving at the new apartment on next Thursday. Jane will, of course, find the furthest hiding place. It's always a challenge to locate her when moving. In one apartment, she managed to hide under the back of the refrigerator. Given her considerable girth, this was quite the feat. In the last place, she decided behind the stove was the place to be, until I cut off her access point. Then it was off to the closet for her.