Chicken’s Corner: A New Move

We’ve moved, and all anyone wants to know is how the cats are doing. I commune with them regularly so I will let you know.

They’re doing okay.

It’s a bit of the usual, maybe with more curiosity and purring and inquiring. Chicken is going outside as he does. Of note, there seems to be a vastly smaller wildlife population here—where are all the alley cats? Raccoons? Flocks of pigeons, mice, maniac squirrels skittering about everywhere? Are they all citizens of the opossum kingdom?

I wonder if Chicken misses all these other creatures. Probably not, although maybe he misses all the friendly human hands out in the laneway, there to give him a little rub or snack. A fair share of our neighbours knew him by sight, or even by name.

And so the cats are finding their own new routines along with us, new places to sleep, new places to wait for their human servants to return, new places to hide from the nerf guns, new places for the treat jars, new places to throw up (hasn’t happened yet, but I think it’s one of those things you can count on). New doors to meow at, new faucets to lick from, new sunny spots to sleep in.

Some things stay the same, some things never change. These two buggers and their personalities and ideas and cold, perky noses and warm, fuzzy purring. “Take me seriously or not at all!” says some crusty chicken. “I love you!” says Tuna.