A few of my readers have asked me how Charlie the Dog and Izzy the Cat are adjusting to apartment living. Good question, readers! Or, you know, it's an okay question. I mean, there have been worse. Questions like "Why are you wearing that?" and "How much more could you suck?" So. Onward!
Of course we had informed the pets when we first decided to move, to give them time to adjust. And Charlie was all, "But I need a backyard to defile with my fecal matter" and Izzy was like, "How will I live without a basement in which I can find all manner of dust and crap to rub into my fur?" And we replied, "How about your opinion matters when you contribute some money and/or start picking up your own poop?" That shut them up good. At least for a few hours, and then they started grumbling again.
I am happy to report, however, that they appear happier in the apartment than they ever were in the house. I'm not sure why this is, except that now they can keep on eye on us at all times. Frankly I didn't think Izzy cared all that much, but it turns out she likes having us around. Where she can be directly underfoot, trying to kill us.
Charlie seems more comfortable knowing that we're all in one place, that his pack is safely assembled. It must have been exhausting, keeping track of us in the house. Especially when some of us were upstairs and others were downstairs, a setup he must have imagined we had planned just to torment him. He's also enjoying meeting other dogs, which is a huge surprise—the last time we lived here, he would go ballistic if he saw a dog or anything vaguely dog-shaped. On our walks in New Jersey, we would maybe see one other dog, usually across the street, as the dog and its owner scurried away. Now he's seeing multiple dogs on every block and he's greeting them like they're old friends. Like he's happy to be back in Brooklyn! Or maybe he's just old.
So they're good. Besides, we're in an overheated rental, and what animal doesn't enjoy a nice dry heat?