Grover is San Diego's newest resident. He's not happy about it.
Happy New Year, Gentle Readers!
Poor George and I had a lovely Christmas together in Vermont with my family, where we convened from several different states to enjoy the quintessential White Christmas, sleigh ride and all. (I'm serious, we actually took a sleigh ride.)
Poor George and I have just arrived in San Diego with our cats in tow. Getting them here via airplane was just loads of fun, and they are both traumatized, although Ava has emerged from under the bed and has already figured out how to climb up the chimney.
Grover was so freaked out that Poor George and I had to extract him from under the bed and hold him tightly between us under the covers while we napped, all just to get him to stop shivering in fear. I think he's starting to feel better, but all the same I'm leaving him in the guest bedroom until he has enough of his moral strength back to allow for further house exploration.
Meanwhile Ava, is meowing her discontent and confusion non-stop as she sniffs every square inch of every room.
Our furniture consists of the following:
- one couch
- one twin bed (with just barely enough room for two full grown men and two larger than life cats)
- one dining room table/desk and six wooden chairs
- one coffee table
- six foldup camping chairs that my dad bought so that a few people could sit down during our marriage ceremony in the park last October.
Needless to say, it's not quite a "home" yet - - - but I have faith that it will get there. Poor George will relocate here permanently sometime over the next 3 months or so. Maybe he'll bring some more of our furniture with him.