Getting My Move On

I consider myself an expert on getting myself and my animals from one place to another. After all, when I moved to Louisiana, I had three days between graduation and starting my internship. For the trip back to California I had a little more time, but I was still on the road within 48 hours. Here are some things I learned about moving a household, seven cats, three birds, and a big dog a few thousand miles by myself in the middle of summer…

Don’t expect the moving company to make it easier:
For the first trip I paid a company to move my stuff. It was a disaster. First they told me they didn’t pick up on Sunday and that they would call me 24 hours in advance. Then they called me on Sunday morning to tell me they were twenty minutes away and I wasn't done packing. The stuff finally ended up in a van, only to disappear for almost two months. They wouldn’t return my calls.
Finally they called me back to schedule a delivery time, and after I’d been waiting three hours I called them again at which point I found out the truck had broken down in Texas two days before. A week later my stuff finally showed up at 9pm along with the driver and two local crack addicts to help unload. Everything looked like it had been thrown around and stomped on. Repeatedly. When I unpacked I found that everything that could be broken was broken.
Because of that I had a whole lot less stuff to move back to California, which made it easier. I hired a container and packed it myself. It arrived on the day it was supposed to and everything was in perfect condition.

Minivans hold quite a lot of stuff:
I fit two large dog crates (holding the cats), luggage, the dog, and two small bird cages into a Kia something or other, and still was able to use the rear view mirror. The SUV that the first rental company gave me wouldn’t have held any more than my Honda Civic.

Give the cats someplace to hide:
On the way to Louisiana the only place to hide in the dog crate (which had all the cats) was the covered litterbox. Scooter camped out in the litterbox for three days and refused to budge. By day two I was driving with the windows down. On the way back I zip-tied the small carriers inside the dog crates and it was a much more pleasant experience. Everyone had someplace to hide, and someplace else to go when nature called.


Nice hotels are nice, but…:
All Motel 6 locations allow dogs. Yeah, they’re kind of gross, but it’s only for a couple of nights.


Figure out the rental van early on:
I had to unpack the front seat (where the bird cages were wedged) in 105 degree heat because I couldn’t figure out how to turn on cruise control and the manual was in the glove compartment.


Don’t feed the birds French fries:
It was a simple mistake. Early on I gave the conures (aka, the loudest birds in the universe) a small piece of French fry each when I stopped for lunch. By the second day they were screaming in anticipation every time I exited the freeway. Conures screaming two feet from your ear is not a good thing. This way lies madness.


And finally:
Drive like the wind.