Some days just aren't worth mentioning. You wake up feeling awful, your to-do list is woefully uninspiring, there are no clean socks, your inbox is so clogged it needs medical attention. I could go on. Taking a vacation or even a day off would help - although that can be a tough challenge (both spontaneously and financially) for many of us. But an hour?
Yeah, sometimes all you need is an hour...
Even if it's just for a moment - wherever you are, allow yourself to take a breath.
We moved this summer. It was complicated because we didn't want to leave, but we had to. Sometimes circumstances are just really crummy and you have to make the best of it.
Luckily, we are very good at making the best of it. Even with the clock ticking, when we hadn't found anything that worked in our favourite neighbourhoods, when we were contemplating rentals... and dreading the implied delay, storage locker, and double-move... With weeks to spare, we took a leap and found ourselves a home in the country.
Our ever cheerful agent had lined up a bunch of visits and we headed off the island to have a look. It was raining and chilly, and our hearts weren't fully into it - even if we could afford it, there would be something seriously wrong with the place. It would be too far from civilization. It wouldn't hold a candle to our current apartment. It would just... not be Montreal. And who wanted to live anywhere that wasn't Montreal? Not me, that's who.
Moving out of the city had only ever been part of a "when we're older" scenario. When we're richer, when life is calmer... when we wear sea captain hats and smoking jackets. You know, when we're OLDER. We never thought we'd head out of Montreal so soon - I mean, I've only lived here for 37 years. Come on. But we took a look at how we live our lives and it made more and more sense. I work from home, and Christian works all over the place. Contrary to the first ten years of our relationship, we now had a car. I may not have my license (yet), but we would have enough room to stock up for months, and to take on house projects we've always wanted to try. The pets would love it. Right? Think of the pets!
In the end, none of it mattered when we pulled up to our first visit of the day, in Hudson. After driving down a rather suburban-looking road, we turned into a barely-visible gravel driveway and pulled up to a house on a little hillside that was surrounded by big trees and hidden from the road.
"I'm in love," I said. We checked out the inside. Dark, tired, a little on the damp side... right. But oh, so much potential! And so different from our last place! Not a plaster medallion or crown molding in sight. Rough wood beams across every ceiling, terra cotta tiles on the floor - the challenge was exciting, and the main deal-breakers were nowhere to be found: there was a new roof and a healthy foundation. Other than a resident raccoon family and a tired, dated old space, no urgent issues. It was just a question of patience and some serious saving.
Needless to say, we went home that night feeling hopeful. We weren't over the moon, because we still had to say goodbye to this place. We would have to start from scratch, and anybody who's gone through a reno or three knows what that implies. Our much-celebrated bathroom had even made it onto the pages of Design Sponge. It was a bittersweet time, but now that we look back on it, we are so relieved that we held on and pushed through.
Fast-forward a few months, and here we are. Country life has been a relatively easy adjustment - it's not like moving to another city, where all I would do is compare it to Montreal. We've been enjoying the green, and the space, and the peace. Panda shows her appreciation by dragging half the forest in with her every time she walks in the door.
Now with fall upon us, it's even more beautiful. Granted, it's harder to whip up dinner without a little planning, and we miss our old haunts, but it's nothing a little effort won't solve. Our place still has that just-moved-in look, but ideas are simmering and we're busy dreaming. The kitchen and bathroom will have to wait until we've saved up some money (so - years from now), but in the meantime we have lots of painting to do, furniture to rearrange and artwork to put up. Wish us luck :)
It's been five long weeks and Slinky is still missing. I've been holding out, hoping that my next blog post would be a warm and fuzzy reunion story... but no such luck. It's been really painful to realize that I'm "getting used to" her not being here along with all of the usual daily routines that come along with that. Slinky was a very active part of our household (as you can see, she even supervised our renovations) and after ten years of companionship it's very hard to adjust to life without her.
I've been truly floored by the kindness of strangers - perhaps it's because we've encountered some pretty unkind strangers in the past, but I've been moved to tears by how friendly and helpful people have been. From neighbours asking if Slinky is back and making suggestions about where to put up posters to strangers calling at one in the morning (actually that scared me pretty bad, but the person phoning was so sure he had just seen Slinky that it was easy to forgive him), I'm eternally grateful to one and all. I've appreciated all the thoughtful and sympathetic shelter and vet staff I've interacted with over the past several weeks, I even made a new friend at the local paper when I called to place an ad.
Friends have also shared some pretty insane (and somewhat comforting) cat-came-back stories... returning after weeks, months, even over a year! Slinky, please don't take that long, I don't know if I could bear worrying about you all winter. As it is, every time it storms at night (and it has a lot, lately) I cringe and hope so desperately that you have found yourself a kind, temporary family that is feeding you and letting you indoors at night. I glance out the windows all day, and every black shadow I see makes me stare intently - until I realize it's a squirrel. Every night I flick on the backyard lights in case you show up at the door, and I hesitate to close the bedroom windows when I go to bed in case I won't hear you meowing to be let in. Slinky come home. I'm not giving up.
Keep your eyes peeled for a sweet little black cat who loves to trill-talk and snuggle up with her family every night - we miss her so, so much, and we're still holding onto the hope that she'll come home. Thank-you so much for all the help, advice, anecdotal stories, shared experiences and support. It's helped a lot.
I'd been happily preparing to write a post about our new place and our new neighbourhood - there is so much to share, and we're loving it all so much! But I've been putting it off due to a furry little friend that has been painfully absent from our daily lives. Slinky the cat has up and gone on an adventure - or at least, that's what we're hoping. We've lived here for about a month, she's settled in really well and she's been gone overnight before, so we're pretty sure it's not a case of cat-freaked-out-from-new-surroundings, and more a case of exploratory enthusiasm... but it's been six days. She's never not come home for breakfast.
It's been many breakfasts. And dinners.
I'm worried that she followed a few too many field mice and has found herself somewhere too far from home - there are little wooded areas all over the place and she could be camped out in any one of them. Thankfully Hudson is peppered with little fresh water streams so she won't have hydration issues; there are houses/shelter within close reach, and hopefully food won't be too hard to come by, either.
We've been out calling up and down our winding streets several times a day, every day - we've told neighbours, emailed shelters, phoned vets... my printer is noisily printing up a fresh batch of posters as we speak and we're off to do some more blitzing. I am anxiously channeling the hopeful and perseverant spirit of Dan and John Spencer, who were happily reunited after almost 2 months. I've been reassured by friends who have some pretty crazy cat disappearance stories and I'm hoping that Slinky will follow her stomach and low-snuggle-quota all the way back home again... but every day a cloud settles deeper over this house. We're all feeling it.
Slinky, it's so hard to go to bed without you trying to squish up against me and send me to sleep with your purrs, and it's so sad to wake up without you staring me in the face, patiently waiting for breakfast. I miss your trill-hellos every time you walk into a room and your daily visits to my lap as I work. Please come home, we miss you so much.
A Panda mention (because it's always all about Panda around here). Our sweet shelter rescue doggie is doing great! She has integrated fully and completely into our lives - she leaves the cats alone, although not for lack of trying to be friends. She likes to snuggle, chase her ball, wrestle on the carpet, and play with other (nice) doggies. She is a huge, fluffy, soft, whiskered ball of friendliness and love. Awwww.
