As I mentioned before, we bought a house that Sam is now living in. An estimated 95% of my time is spent either at work, at church, or at the new house. I literally only go to my apartment to sleep at night. Therfore, we felt it only fair that Delilah go ahead and make the transition to her new home so she's not so lonely. Also let me say, the move was Sam's idea.
It began with a traumatic night of me trying to stuff her in her cat carrier tha she rode 14 hrs in when we moved to Texas [I think she remembered it too well], and ended with us both sitting in the floor of the apartment for a good 30 minutes, her giving me the "go to you-know-where" stare from across the room and licking her paws in satisfaction, me nursing a deep scratch on my right middle finger which was the final straw that forced me to give up and let her ride in the car without the carrier.
I drove her over, set up the litter box, food, and water, and let her get settled. She walked around for a few hours meowing extensively, but finally got familiar with it and found her place snuggled in at the foot of Sam's bed. After that, she's been right at home! I wanted to tell you a couple of my favorite Sam and Delilah stories so far.
After the first night of her staying there with him, he called me at 8:00 the next morning. I said, in my sweetest you-definitely-woke-me-up-before-my-alarm-but-I-still-love-you fiancé voice, "Good morning, babe. How'd you sleep?" His response: "Fine. Delilah didn't sleep with me like you said she would. I don't know where she slept. And we are going to have to get rid of the bell on her collar. At 7 this morning she was jumping on the bed, jumping down, running in the living room, jumping on the couches. The bell was just ring ring ringing and it's going to drive me insane if we don't get rid of it." I died laughing.
A few mornings later I got off work at 7ish and called Sam on my drive to the house to see him for a few minutes before he was off to work for the day. "Good morning!" I exclaimed in my I've-been-up-for-14-hours-voice. "Morning." He replied in his best you-definitely-woke-me-up-before-my-alarm-but-I-still-love-you fiancé voice. "Something's wrong with Delilah. She was in here on the bed crying early this morning before I could even get out of bed and use the bathroom. And she was scratching on her scratchpad in the middle of the night! You're gonna have to have a talk with her." I arrived at the house 30 minutes later where Delilah met me at the door screaming. I picked her up and loved her for a minute, then proceeded to the kitchen where Sam was having his morning bowl of cereal. He gave me a cheerio kiss and I turned to see Delilah right on my heels. I glanced past her at her food and water bowls which were both bone dry. "No wonder she's crying Sam! She's starving and dying of thirst!" He felt horrible, and apologized to her repeatedly for not filling her bowls. I stood in the doorway and listened to him explain, "Kitty, I'm sorry I didn't feed you. I've never had a cat I had to take care of by myself before. I'll do better." I died laughing, again.
And finally, the chair incident. We spent two hours in Ikea looking for things to make the new house feel more like a home. We came away with a rug and coffee table, and Sam picked a new computer chair for the office. He sat in tons of chairs, rolled around, tested the head rests, and finally made a decision. We brought it all home and he spent the whole evening putting everything together. The chair looks great in the office, perfect height for someone who's torso is longer than my legs. The next evening I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, and he went into the office to look over sermon notes for the coming Sunday. Soon after, his voice boomed through the house, "OH MY GOSH. CHELSEY, YOUR CAT!!!!" [of course, now she's my cat, when she's done something wrong]. I made my way to the office, expecting to find some poop in the floor or pee on a blanket or something. I rounded the corner to see Sam standing over the new chair, tenderly caressing the seat cushion. I approached to find multiple claw marks where Delilah had used the fresh new cushion to sharpen her nails. He stood over the chair in apparent disbelief, and I patted him on the back and said "Get ready dear. Cats, dogs, kids, me... this is the way it's gonna be. Welcome to your life."
He's a good sport, Sam. I think I'll marry him. <3
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment