Reserved the truck. Going with Penske…unlimited miles sounds good, and they offer a discount through AAA. It’s official…assuming we secure an apartment when we’re down there, we will move on May 11th. I came home and ceremoniously packed The First Box (Knick-Knacks, Stuff, Non-Essential.) It still doesn’t feel real. I don’t believe for a second that I will really be moving. I may not actually believe it until I’m on the road in the truck.

I worry about the cats. They’re going to be in a bare apartment with only cat carriers, food dishes, and cardboard scratching disks for a week. I hope they don’t go crazy. I said to James “I hope they don’t trash the place.” He gave me a look that encompassed the water damage, holes in the floor, holes under the sink, leaky everything, regrettable linoleum and said “And what could they POSSIBLY do?” I considered this, and really, there’s not much. Even in the supremely unlikely event that, under duress, Loki remembered how long ago, he was technically a male cat and began spraying in the corners, it’s all hardwood floors and would mop up, and one more suspicious stain among the medley would go unnoticed. The apartment essentially came pre-trashed. I just have to be sure to plaster notes all over the walls saying “We’re coming back! Don’t take the cats!”

I’ve got the cat carriers out so they get used to ’em, and they like sleeping in them. Today I got two little harnesses so that we can walk them at rest stops, or at least let them out in the car–four days on the road is way too long to stay immobile in a box. Athena became completely immobile when we put hers on–it was so alien that she just sat on the table for twenty minutes without moving, as if hoping the weird thing would get bored and go away. I had to get Loki a dog harness–there’s no fitting a 26 lb feline into the petite cat ones–and misjudged the size. The medium is a hair too large. I’ll take it back tomorrow and see if I can’t find a medium-small. (The problem is that his neck is much smaller than a dog’s, but his girth is huge, so it’s hard to judge.) Loki’s response to the harness is to roll over on his back and flop like a pudgy flounder. Once I’ve got ’em tolerating the harnesses, I’ll…god help me…take the cats for a walk in the back yard so that leashes aren’t a completely foreign idea. This will look so absurd that I feel an urge to mock myself pre-emptively just to get it out of the way.

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