Soooo….we’ve been working on The Old Vic a lot. We stay there when we do. Since mostly we are there a couple days at a time, we’ve chosen the leave “Casper”, the 22-pound Maine Coon, at the suburban “Blah” house (the place we live whilst I’m working at the day job).
The theory was that a couple days alone (cats are generally very “self-maintaining”) was less stress for him than cramming him in a box, driving him out in the country, and turning him loose inside a place he’s never been…that’s about 4 times the size of “his” home, and involves me, running around and attacking various random things with power tools and loud-bangy things (technical term).
When we got ready to leave for the Old Vic last week, the wife hauled out a piece of luggage to pack a few books in.
Yes, luggage. See all the boxes, totes, and various other things we use to cart stuff around were…with remarkable foresight and careful planning…left AT the Old Vic last weekend. Sigh. That’s okay, as I DID bring the mower keys back with me that weekend and so, naturally, left them at the Blah house this weekend. Why the keys should be kept at the house that *doesn’t* have the mower? Well, apparently I’m an idiot.
Anyway, Casper took a stand. He would not be moved.
The Old Vic, with some open walls, secret passages, and rodent bait left over from previous years, isn’t quite ready for him to romp all over the place, although I am looking forward to seeing what kind of horrendous crash the 22 pound cat will make when he discovers his brakes won’t work on the hardwood floors…
Oh, and when he meets that staircase, things ought to get very interesting.
Anyway, he wasn’t going to be left behind. It is not possible to move a 22-pound sack of lumpy jello…especially if that sack of jello can turn all muscley and pointy-sharp pretty much at will. The suitcase was his.
We fooled him though…we simply abandoned the suitcase and ran.
I expect we’ll pay for that….