The move is finally over

It is now official. We are out of the old place and into the new place. I did the final walk-through at the prior rental this morning. Trust me when I say that the house was cleaner when we left than when we moved in. It took all of five minutes; I didn't even have to argue about the crap on the walls that was there when we moved in (and tried to scrub off to no avail). The only thing that will come out of our deposit will be the carpet cleaning, only because we were there longer than 90 days.

We are now able to completely put the last four months behind us. We no longer have to deal with the asshat neighbor (which I need to finish that story). We don't have to deal with Boyfriend's Grandma's bad attitude. And hopefully she's done making up lists of stuff we "stole" from her (when in reality it's stuff she left behind and forgot about). We can focus on us, setting some money aside, and house hunting for something that we will both love and that will work for us and mostly, be nice and quiet.

I've spent the week unpacking and getting the house set up. I still have to figure out stuff on the walls, and I'd like to find some valances for at least the living room windows.

I've discovered I have the power here. The power of unpacking what I packed and I am the only one who knows where everything is. Boyfriend constantly asks me where things are.

Boyfriend's commute has gone from about an hour each way to about two minutes each way. My commute twice a week for my weekend job is now about an hour each way. However, while I'm in Redding, I will run errands, go grocery shopping, and that fun stuff. No special trips to town because I forgot something . . . considering it's an hour. The nearest grocery store is about twenty minutes away in the nearest (not-as-small) small town. In our town, we have two mini-marts. Emphasis on "mini". 

I never found Harriet. It  breaks my heart. I spent at least an hour one night, sitting by the hidey box that Boyfriend made for her, crying uncontrollably. I miss her so much. Her missing kept Boyfriend up during the night. We cried together the night before we moved; I admitted I felt like I was abandoning her. I finally had a dream about her last night. During the day (in the dream), she'd be missing and I'd be heartbroken. But when I slept, she'd be at my head, purring away, her whiskers tickling my face. Day would return and she'd be gone. But when I slept, she'd be back. I awoke feeling loved by my kitty.

As I waited for the rental agent for the walk-through, I walked around outside, again looking and calling her name. As before, silence greeted me.

The not knowing hurts the most. I miss my little keekers. 

Life Gets Crazy and Then Your Beloved Cat Goes MISSING

Boyfriend and I found a place to rent in the town where he works. We found it last week.

On Monday, he quickly decided he wanted out of the house this week. We took a trailer load of stuff today. Mom and I cleaned and unpacked everything labeled "kitchen". The upside, is minus a few random items, the new kitchen is clean and set up and ready to go. The downside is that the entire move is basically a cluster-fuck and it's driving me crazy. 

I've been calling our utilities to get stuff set up, transferred, moved, and cancelled. Thank God for speaker phone.

Monday night, Boyfriend opened the sliding glass door to let some cool air in. This door has never had a screen door, even though we've asked the landlord for one.

Sometime Monday night, my beloved kitty, Miss Harriet, got curious and went outside. It was pouring down rain. My guess is she got spooked by something and she took off to hide. I spent an hour wandering the property looking for her. Mom came over and helped me do it all over again. We poked around in the ground cover, shrubs, trees, bushes, the barns, even got down on my hands and knees in the mud to look under barns/sheds, over-turned boats, etc . . . and yes, even everywhere in the house. We even drove around, looking for her . . . nothing by the side of the road.

I even took her plastic red food dish that I tap on when I want to feed her canned food by surprise. The tapping will usually bring her out from anywhere and she's ready to munch on her treat.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Tuesday night came and she still hadn't come around.

People kept telling me once it stopped raining, she'd come out of hiding.

It stopped and she hasn't.

I've checked with the neighbors. Nothing.

She's not an adventurous cat. She gets down low and hides when scared versus climbing (although she still has all of her claws, so she could climb if needed). I can't even imagine her leaving the yard. I know that if she could hear me hollering for her, she'd meow or yowl. And I hear nothing.

Not a single peep, meow, yowl, growl, hiss, scream. Nothing.

And that worries me most of all.

We are moving this week. I don't want to leave without her. Without knowing.

I have been crying for two days.

Miss Harriet has been one of my BFF's for ten years. She was a stray I took in that had been dumped at a pet store. She kept my lap and feet warm on cold winter days and nights. She purred in my ear, happy and content during the night. She let me cry into her fur when I was upset. I cajoled her after having been drugged for dentals or shaving. She politely followed me around the kitchen, quietly begging for canned food. Sometimes, not so quietly. She was my companion in my otherwise lonely apartments in Sacramento. She put up with me moving a lot recently and even became friends with Wyatt, our new kitten. She became more comfortable in the house and wasn't even upset about the recent packing. She had re-found her perch atop my recliner and was content in watching the kitten play with a string.

I severely miss my cat. She has been there for me for ten years and I her.

My heart aches.

My eyes burn.

Not knowing what may have happened or if she's hurt or scared and can't find her way back after the 24 hours of solid rain . . . that is the worst thing in the world.

I want my Harriet back. And I want her back NOW.

It is now Tuesday night. I have again walked the property, crawled around, called her name, her nickname, made kissing noises and looked everywhere.

Nothing. 

People tell me their stories of how their cat went missing for a couple days then showed back up. I hope that happens. I want her back more than words can say.

How is it that silence is deafening? Because it is.