Traffic was hairy.
The wait in the car turned cold despite the hot coffee at hand.
Time spent reading two quaint English novels, rather.
Once the moving van appeared all went well.
The wait in the apartment turned cold despite the efforts of tiny ancient radiators.
Cell phone not cooperating, of course. Cell phone doesn’t respond to button pushing (that’s right, it’s an old dumb one with buttons) because it is only an emergency phone and rarely gets charged up being a forgotten phone, stuck in a purse. Finally, contact made using the fussy phone.
Hours have gone by.
One end of the line is me, waiting in the cold, mother. Other end is moving day son, dashing about and cleaning up and tuning in keys then driving through rush hour traffic. Two hour wait turns into six hour wait.
At home, dog in crate.
Finally, moving son and waiting mom are reunited, go through drive ‘thru for late fast food supper. Both have not eaten today so gobbling food in car, licking salt from French fries on fingers. Mom has not had French fries for at least donkey’s ages because she is tying to release some weight and it has taken over three years and the same ten pounds come and go.
Dog food , only the best, purchased because at home dog ate last of it for breakfast.
Moving son stays in town to unpack and settle.
Cold mom drives out to country and uncrates dog, walks dog and feeds dog.
Tea and toast for mom and a wee bit of cheese for dog.
Long suffering cat in her high level sleeping basket. Cat now used to living in exile in high level sleeping basket in mom’s bedroom, door shut with all her other needs met with litter discretely handy on another high level. Water in a tiny blue and white saucer, antique. Cat hates dog. Dog doesn’t understand cat’s issues.
Dog not happy, happy, happy having to wait yet another evening for transfer to new home.
Cuddles given, dog relaxes now beside me in the good chair with the soft velour throw, my chair. This time of night she is the most lovely thing, sleeping. I’ll leave her there.