As of my last blog post (here) I was on a farm in the middle-of-nowhere-Kentucky, unemployed, broke, and living with the dog, the cat, the cat, the cat, and the cat....
Now, I'm in an apartment in the city, employed, slightly less broke, and living with the dog and the cat. I could only take one cat.
Myrtle, of course. Myrtle wins everything.
The other cats are at the farm with Mom and Dad. I miss them. A lot. They are transitioning to full-time outdoor/barn kitties. . .unless any of you want one of these semi-famous, adorably cute, kind of neurotic cats. . .
Anyhow, we're all settling in. City life is different. But I go where the money is. I love money. You know, so I can buy fun things. Like food. And shelter.
Charlie, who is the most perfect angel dog, has adjusted pretty well to apartment living. Mostly. He misses being able to run free on the farm, but we live in a lovely area and take lots of walks. There are two things we've had to work on, though:
1) I've shared before (here) that Charlie does a fantastic James Earl Jones impression when strangers pass by our door in hotel rooms- a low, imposing rumble. And now, our apartment- every time our neighbors pass by. E.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e. Sometimes, if the neighbors walk a little too close to our door, Charlie breaks out his pretty darn convincing Cujo.
He does that with the cats, too. But always feels ashamed afterwards.
2) Charlie has a beautiful singing voice. He used to howl along with the occasional siren of passing fire trucks. We now live near a hospital. . .
After several weeks, he now understands that his howls are terrifying to others- and LOUD, the echoes bouncing off the other apartment building as Charlie serenades them from our balcony. So he has learned to ignore them, or sometimes he just softly croons. He has learned the art of dimenuendo.
Myrtle has done surprisingly well. Mostly.
She has me a little worried, though.
Of course, I did my due diligence as I was apartment hunting. When I was checking out my current apartment, I responsibly checked the plumbing, light fixtures, and opened the fridge to make sure there was no Zuul.
But ever since we moved in, Myrtle has been doing some..........creepy...........things.
Everyday, Myrtle spends some time staring at my walk-in closet door. Intently. Completely still. Expectantly.
I hope and pray that it's just Narnia on the other side.
And then there's this:
Last week Myrtle started jumping on the headboard of my bed. In the middle of the night. Right above my head. And stares. And makes a low, guttural sound- not quite a growl, not quite a hiss.
I don't even know what to hope and pray for here.
But most of the time she now pretends to be a real (cat food commercial) cat. All affectionate and cuddly-like. We cozy up all together in front of the fireplace all the time now- I read my book and they snooze.
It's a wonderful life. Change is good. The cat lady continues to be a cat lady. Just a little more catless. For now.