(Last of the catching up)
June 5th, 2014
After waiting all day for an update on the cats, I finally received a phone call letting me know they were on their way. At around 6pm, the French driver( who only spoke French) called us looking for our place. Luckily we were downstairs because we had been watching traffic from the balcony. Anything big enough to truck three cats and their huge crates grabbed our attention. We chased him down and managed to communicate that the three unhappy felines in his vehicle were, in fact, ours. We followed him to where he was parked and waited anxiously to see if they would be alive when the doors swung open. Shockingly, they were. Red was closest to the front; eyes wide with an “I’ve seen some shit” nam-cat expression. Aurora was a small furball with blown pupils swallowed in the sheer size of her cage. Fezzik, most surprisingly, looked bored. He didn’t look butthurt, scared, frazzled, or anything like we thought. He looked bored and smug. The bastard.
We signed the papers and headed back across the street. A processional of crying cats and a strong cat urine odor. I’m sure the later accounted for the looks we were getting from the women we passed on the street. You can’t be mad at them, it’s a long scary flight. When you have to go, you have to go. Once we made it into our building, sent them up the elevator one with me, the next two on their own, we went inside and let them free. Aurora slowly emerged and began howling. Pretty normal for her. She and Red quickly found the closest hiding place (under the bed) after receiving ample pets from two apologetic pet parents. Fezzik, the bastard, practically danced out. He wandered around, randomly laying on the floor, only to get back up to go plant his ass somewhere else. He even ate some food and meowed his pathetic little happy meow. We were truly shocked. We were expecting to have a Fezzik Watch 2014 for the blog containing various pictures of his tail sticking out from random places as he hid from the world. It’s what he did every time we moved. Apparently, Fezzik was made for Paris. He seemed genuinely happy in our little place. He adopted a “le meow” attitude immediately. We almost felt bad that he has to, eventually, go back to Houston. Perhaps, Fezzik did know that, deep down, he could fly. Paris just happened to be wings he was looking for.
Fezzik In Paris 