(See post below for Part 1 of the moving saga.)
So! I got another wagon load of stuff back to the new house, unloaded, and decided it was time to let the cats start exploring. I opened up the door to the spare room, looked around, and ........ nothing. No cats.
I finally found them scrunched behind some boxes in the closet. I called, and called, and called, but no dice. There was no way IN HELL they were coming out of that closet.
Aw! Poor kitties!
They finally came slinking out into the living room around eight on Friday night. They'd do a quick recon and run right back to their safe closet again.
And now, five days later, they're still uncertain of their surroundings. They'll come out and explore for a little bit, then go back to the closet, or under the bed, or in the bathtub. Any unexpected noise sends them running for safety. Little Girl is doing better than The Runt, which doesn't surprise me, since she's always been the bolder of the two. Last night I unlatched the pet door, which leads to the garage, and propped it open so they could start getting used to the garage, which they'll have to go through get outside, once I start letting them out. They were fine as long as the pet door was propped open, but they can't seem to figure out how to work it on their own. *sigh* I had no idea there was a learning curve for pet doors.
I feel bad, because I had no idea that this move would be so traumatic on them. I thought they'd scope out the new place for a couple of days and then be fine. Poor Runt looks like he's about to have a heart attack half the time; I hope they calm down soon. I know they'll love the new place once they get used to it.
In the meantime, I've got two disconcerted kitties on my hands.