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The Move - July 2011

We were going to rent out our current house, and as I had volunteered to help out at our local theatre before we knew we were moving, we decided to stay in our current house for a couple of weeks and meanwhile to start moving the loose stuff down. Then we'd get some men and a van to help us move the big stuff. It meant a few weeks less rental coming in, but a more relaxed move.

To facilitate things along, and bearing in mind we knew that one was likely to be needed for our new country life, we bought a trailer with mesh sides. This proved to be a real asset. Art was driving the hundred kilometers each way with fresh loads every day.

Meanwhile, we'd found tenants for our house - a nice English couple with kids at the local college. They could move in three weeks, which gave us a week or two after our final 'big move' on the Tuesday, and allow us to complete moving the small stuff and clean the old place up.

On the Monday our rental agent dropped a bombshell. 'The tenants want to know if they can move in on Saturday'. So much for having some time!

Tuesday was the Big Move. Three men and a van turned up at 8:30 am, and started taking the furniture. They worked really hard (I offered them tea, but they even said no to that!). By 11:00 am we were ready to drive to the new place. We arrived, and were met by the wild turkeys. One of the removal men's eyes lit up. 'Christmas dinner! he said. I think if he'd had a gun we'd have gotten rid of a few pests in one fowl (excuse the pun) swoop! The men unpacked, then eventually stopped for that cup of tea and a gingernut before driving off.

Wild Turkeys welcoming committee

At last! We could sit down for 5 minutes and relax. Then we took one look at the pile of stuff that needed sorting in the garage and said 'stuff it - it can wait'. We went down the local hotel for a beer and fish and chips.

One advantage to having such a short time between moving out and the tenants moving in - it made us work our socks off for the next 4 days (and we left all my plant pots as we ran out of time) - but it meant we could draw a line under it much quicker and get on with our new rural life.

Moving the Cat

Monday was also the day we moved the cat.

Now Moet is a rescue cat, inherited from my son, Tom. She arrived at his house, hid under the bed, then promptly escaped and went on the run for 9 months. Meanwhile, Tom moved back in with us. So it was a bit of a surprise when we received a call from the SPCA saying she had been found (the wonders of microchipping). We picked her up, brought her back to ours - where she'd promptly escaped again (we were considering renaming her 'Houdini'). So she's spent the last year living under the house. As you can imagine, she's a very nervous little cat. I'd just managed to gain her confidence enough to let me brush her.

Now we had to catch her. We set a plan. Moet had started coming into the house when I went to feed her - but didn't like the door shut. I'd entice her in, shut the door, then pick her up and shove her in a cat box that Art was holding hidden in the hallway. Hm. So much for that plan. I still have the scars. But eventually (with the help of a large towel) we managed it.

As it was very unlikely I'd ever get her in a box again, I took the opportunity to take her to the vet for a check-up and jabs. I warned the vet she was very nervous, and showed him my scars. He tipped her out, started checking her out, and the damned cat called me a liar by starting to purr at him! One thing I was pleased about - the vet commented on how healthy she is. The outdoor life must suit her.

Moet, sitting on the wooden partition in the garage some days after the move

Next, Art drove her to the new house. There is a separate garage, which we thought was secure, so he placed her in there and let her out. Then he came back, we picked up another trailer-load of stuff, and drove back. And do you think we could find her? No! I was really worried - there weren't that many places for a cat to hide! There was a very small gap at the top of the roller doors. Had she managed to escape again? It looked like it. I was very worried, and left food inside and outside the garage (just in case).

We arrived on Tuesday, and I opened the garage with trepidation. Still no sign of Moet, but the food was eaten and the dirt box had been used. I gave a sigh of relief. She was in there somewhere!

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