So, we aren't fully moved in to the house yet, but we are totally staying here. I mean, obviously, right? We almost slept here on the floor Friday night after closing but decided against it since we had a day of moving ahead of us. We aren't 20 years old anymore, amiright? And since we are here, we had to bring the cats! They are both doing fine now and seem to enjoy their new house. However, their initial reactions to coming here could not have been more different. I think we could learn a little something from both of them. That's right, learning from cats.
Scout
Scout is a lot like me. Trusting. Open. Sometimes to a fault, which can lead to embarrassment or hurt. For both humans and cats. Scout was plopped down in the new house and she instantly trotted out to explore. She wasn't suspicious at all. We knew that she was safe in the house, but she didn't know that. She brazenly scooted from room to room as if every room was filled with Friskies and catnip. Not a worry in the world, seemingly unaware that there may be people out there who don't have her best interests in mind. She ran down into the dark, unfinished basement and poked her fluffy little cat face into every corner, and then ran up to me with whiskers filled with cobwebs. She let it all hang out in one of the upstairs bedrooms (see above) without knowing who might be looking. Scout jumped in to this new house experience with all four paws.
Ollie
If Scout is more like me, Ollie is more like Wes. Extra, extra cautious. Nervous. Deliberate. While Scout immediately set out to explore, Ollie made himself as small as possible and trusted nothing. He spent three hours smushed behind a piece of insulation in the basement studs. In the dark. With bugs. He then spent 48 hours underneath the bed (see above), refusing food and water. He was seriously dramatic. Nothing could pry him out from underneath that bed, as he regressed into a downward spiral of worry and dread about what horrors lay before him in this house. Much like my sweet husband, Ollie just needed a little prod to get him over the anxiety hurdle. Not one hour after we took the bed apart, giving him nowhere to hide, he was trotting around the house like he had been living here for years. Like he's asking us, "what were you guys so scared about? This house is great."
So what have we learned? As with most adorable animal stories, we learned that the place to be is somewhere in the middle. Just right. Not too hot, not too cold. You know the drill. From Scout, we can learn that new beginnings can be exciting. From Ollie, we can learn maybe you shouldn't just shove your whiskers into unfamiliar cobwebs quite so soon. Spend a little time checking things out, but open yourself up to new experiences after that short period. Little bit of country mouse, little bit of city mouse. Position yourself somewhere between full belly exposure and extreme insulation immersion.
Like I said, Wes and I are a lot like these stinking cats. Despite having been burned once by the housing market (thanks financial collapse!), I have been more than ready to jump into homeownership again with all four paws. I've been completely trusting that everything will be totally fine this time around (and, fyi, it will because this time I have Wes). Nothing can possibly stop me from my dream of domesticity - not interest rates, not radon mitigation systems, not holes in the roof, and not closets full of random extension-cords-to-nowhere nailed to the wall. (That's for serious.) Wes has always approached things with pragmatism. He is concerned with boring things like "paying the bills" and "structural soundness" and "insurance." We make an excellent team, however. I dream the dreams, and he makes them happen. Like, actually makes things happen. While I'm running around frenetically, shoving my face in every real estate listing that pops up on homes.com, Wes patiently removes the cobwebs from my whiskers and saves money and researches mortgages. We like to think that the end result of our two drastically different approaches has had a pretty fantastic ending. We seriously love it here.
Like I said, Wes and I are a lot like these stinking cats. Despite having been burned once by the housing market (thanks financial collapse!), I have been more than ready to jump into homeownership again with all four paws. I've been completely trusting that everything will be totally fine this time around (and, fyi, it will because this time I have Wes). Nothing can possibly stop me from my dream of domesticity - not interest rates, not radon mitigation systems, not holes in the roof, and not closets full of random extension-cords-to-nowhere nailed to the wall. (That's for serious.) Wes has always approached things with pragmatism. He is concerned with boring things like "paying the bills" and "structural soundness" and "insurance." We make an excellent team, however. I dream the dreams, and he makes them happen. Like, actually makes things happen. While I'm running around frenetically, shoving my face in every real estate listing that pops up on homes.com, Wes patiently removes the cobwebs from my whiskers and saves money and researches mortgages. We like to think that the end result of our two drastically different approaches has had a pretty fantastic ending. We seriously love it here.
Also: never, ever go on a hunger strike, even if it's just for 48 hours under someone's bed. That's just ridiculous.
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