Moving House

It’s always interesting when a house move takes place – quite apart from all the packing, the move itself (I liken it to going to hell in a hand-cart), and the subsequent unpacking, there’s also the need to get used to the new locality.

It’s pretty here. It’s also quiet, and that’s taking some getting used to. We’re not too far from the city, and we’ve been in a couple of times, negotiating the traffic and new one-way systems that haven’t been updated on the SatNav yet (we’ve had a couple of hairy moments – least said about that, the better)! There are no street lights, so it will be interesting come the winter when the days draw in, and (luckily) the immediate neighbours appear to be very nice.

The cat is enjoying herself. She’s only just been allowed out so she’s busy exploring and making the acquaintance of the neighbours – amusingly, she’s the double of next door’s cat (although he’s a male and his eyes are more round than hers). Next door has a new baby and a new dog – their cat, I was told, has packed his little knap-sack and moved out in a huff. (I can’t say that I blame him – the dog is somewhat, um, bouncy, shall we say? – It’s jumped out of their windows twice since we’ve been here and watching them chase him up and down the road has been almost a Keystone Cops experience!) Their cat originally took to meowing outside my window with a pleading look in his little eye, but now that my own cat is out and about, I doubt we’ll see much more of him.

I said it was amusing that the two creatures are so similar. This is because, earlier today, I caught the man next door trying to coax ‘his’ cat into their house by rattling the food bowl and screeching its name at the top of his lungs.

I looked out to see what the commotion was and spotted my cat sitting at the top of their garden, eyeing him disdainfully. When he swore and went back inside, she happily sauntered home to eat her own.

Should have gone to Specsavers…

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