Hello. I’m Angie, Caryl’s cat.
I’m here to give you my own feline view of this house where we live. If you want to get the unvarnished truth, always ask a cat. We’re known for our independence.
I was not so sure about this moving thing when Caryl first brought it up. I liked where we lived just fine. It had been my habitat for nine years, and I was comfortable there. I had stairs to run, a patio door that gave me a ground-level view of the great outdoors, and lots of comfy places to nap.
But then Caryl got this idea in her head that we were going to move. Well, it started out OK. I actually had a lot of fun helping Caryl go through drawers and pack up boxes.
But by the end, there was nothing left in our condo except my stuff. Everything else was in the garage or had been given away.
On moving day, Caryl left with everything except me. Sure, she said she would come back for me as soon as her stuff was in the new place, but I was kinda worried. I shouldn’t have been, though. She’d be lost without me.
When she came back, she put my cat tree, bed, litter box, bowls, toys, food, everything in her car. Then she scooped me up and stuffed me in my carrier. “Trust me,” she said. “You’ll love our new home.” We’ll see about that, I thought, and gave her nonstop piteous meows on the way over.
When we got here and she let me out, I was so disoriented. Nothing smelled right, and my belongings were all in strange places. I dived under her bed and stayed there. For two days, I let her worry about me and beg me to come out and bribe me with treats.
When it became clear we weren’t going back home, I decided I might as well make the best of it. So I strolled out from under the bed, shook myself good, and looked around like, so here I am. Where’s my food dish?
Once I started exploring, I found some good points in this new place that she called an Abbey. I figured it would probably do.
I don’t have a patio door, but there are some windows with good views. I really like the one right inside the front door that is exactly cat-sized.
And the sun room has more windows than we had all together in our old place. None of them go down to the floor, but Caryl put something in front of them for me to sit on and look out.
My biggest disappointment is not having any stairs to run. I need exercise to keep my svelte form, you know. But I’ve found that the top of the cabinets is a good place to run laps. I make a point of jumping up there when we have guests so I can hear them say, “Oh, look at the cute kitty. How did she get up there?”
Caryl does some fun things, and I naturally help her out with everything. We spend time working on this blog and on the book she is writing.
When she cooks, I have two places I can watch from without getting in trouble. One is a stool at the breakfast bar.
It’s barely high enough, though, so most of the time I use my other place. It is a handcrafted wooden tray that Caryl bought at a church bazaar. She says don’t tell the man who made it that I am using it. I don’t know why. He should be honored.
And sometimes we just watch TV. Here I am, watching a documentary about wolves.
All of this activity can wear a cat out. Luckily, there are lots of good places to take a nap. And I don’t mean somewhere as mundane as a bed. I like to be creative in my sleeping spaces. Sometimes I join some other animals on a shelf for a nap. They are nice and quiet but lousy conversationalists.
Or I might relax on our soft shag rug in the sun room.
And, of course, I can always sunbathe on our bistro table.
In the winter, I like to hang out on the cable box by the fireplace. It’s really warm there.
Caryl promised me we will never move again. That’s fine with me. I’d just as soon spend the rest of my nine lives here in our Abbey.