housing contracts and microchips

Nathalie should be on her way to the States by now. Tuesday was her last day at home. I imagine she's doing a lot of the same things I am. I laughed when I found out we'd both had the plumber out, and that we were each making time to read the new Harry Potter (No, I will not tell you what happens, Michael!).

Last weekend, we had to finalize our housing contracts for the folks at Fulbright. Following an example from the U.S. State Department, I drafted the contracts and then e-mailed them to Nathalie. Several versions later, we arrived at something that met of our expectations. The contracts include things like which bills we're going to pay, watering the houseplants, making sure the lawn is mowed, care and maintenance of the house, and in her case, the temporary adoption of my two kitties.

Chloe and Thisbe (that's thiz-bee) aren't happy with me this week. They could tell something was up when I started cleaning like crazy, and putting things in boxes. They've also noticed that my suitcases have been out all summer, and that alone is enough to make them nervous. Each time I return from a trip, they let me know how upset they are. It takes at least 24-hours for them to stop meowing at me. But I love 'em.

Concerned that Chloe, my escape artist, would run out the door at least once while she's in the care of her new maman, I decided it would be a good idea to have both of the cats micro-chipped. It's also time to have their shots updated. Since they're indoor cats, we don't go to the vet very often; read on, and you'll see why.

Earlier today, my mom came over to help corral the cats in the carriers. Chloe was pretty easy, though her feet went out like a cartoon cat, grabbing the sides of the box. Thisbe is my 'fraidy cat, and she had already taken refuge under my bed. I was able to entice her with treats, but hadn't thought too far ahead - the carrier was in another room. The walk was too long for either of us, and by the time we got to the dining room, I was bleeding from the scratches and she'd escaped. Back under the bed she went, so Mom poked at her with a broom while I waited for her to emerge. She jumped up on the window sill, and I grabbed her. This time, the carrier was on the bed, but she scratched again, getting her claws caught in my skin, my shirt & the bedding. At that point, I decided that the chances of her running away are pretty slim, considering she's never even tried to go out. She won the fight & got to stay home. Miss Chloe wasn't so lucky, but at least she has her shots and her new microchip. And I'll have some nice scars to remind me of the day's adventures.