This Week on teh Interwebs

Does anyone not yet know how awesome Pablito is?


After a long four months of crying every time I left him and crying when I couldn’t see him and crying when I saw him for the first time after a few days, aka A LOT OF CRYING Pablito finally moved up to Zurich with me. For the occasion he got a nifty new carrier with a shoulder strap, so I had him close to me the whole time, so he was warm and toasty. That beast is heavy though, even with the diet, 7 kilos of cat on my shoulder was PAINFUL, especially schlepping through Piripoumesdorf.

One of the things that made me wait so long is that I’m still not really settled up here. A lot of my life is in Lausanne and will be for a while yet. Also, he was living in “his house” with my roommate and I thought it best at the time that he keep familiar surroundings and have a daily presence rather than come up to an empty apartment in Zurich where I’m not always all there. Finally, I was majorly stressing about how bad the journey would be for him, I hated the idea of making him sit either in a car or a train for 3.5 hours door-to-door (apartment to bus to train station to train, two hours in train, train to burbs, bus from suburban train station to apartment).

I wound up taking the train. This was for several reasons. First, I had called in all the car favors I wanted to call in, and good taste prevented me from asking Marisa, or Sandra, or Chris or anyone else for yet another car ride (I’m going to save my car capital for an Ikea trip, har har). Secondly, although opinion was divided, I felt the train would be less stop-start than the little changes in speed a car makes. Finally, I get really carsick but don’t get train-sick unless I am facing the wrong way. So I felt like I would be 100% able to cope better in the train if something did go wrong.

And I must confess here I had no faith in Pablito’s resilience and I was very wrong in my assessment of his ability to handle the trip. I was sure he would howl and puke and just be the vile, aggravating pest he is known to be when faced with situations he doesn’t like at home. I was stressing out about him stressing out. What happened in the end were a few bitchy, guilt-trippy meows if I talked too much (Raphael told me I shouldn’t talk to him so I didn’t for most of the trip, very good tip) and some stares from the depths of his bag which still make me cry because I hated locking him up, but hey. After sniffing around his new digs (he has his OWN ROOM and his Katzenbaum arrives tomorrow), he has stretched out on the couch, purring contentedly. No poo poo or pee pee drama, he has gone both times in the box (I set up his litter box quickly before letting him out of his carrier), no puke, no drama.

So in all reality, the trip was fine, even better than fine, good beyond all expectations, at least until Zurich HB. Once in Zurich Something was wrong with the S9/S15 and our train was packed full due to two trains being cancelled beforehand. Which meant that the bus I normally take to my house was full of screaming teenagers who had missed the earlier trains. So we took a shorter bus and detoured into the local Coop for five minutes to get last minute items and walked the rest of the way home. Getting off the bus, some asshole pushed me (broken foot) and my cat (in an obvious animal carrier) to get out of the bus first. The stores weren’t closing, and when I saw him walking by Coop I was like “ooh you had an urgent appointment” and gave him the side eye. I need to stop yelling at people with a cat in a bag on my shoulder though, I need to protect my reputation, especially in a small town. No one has to know I’m a crazy cat lady but the Internets.

Speaking of Pablito, while he was doing his Great Migration today, he was also on the TSR, because he is awesome like that. I’m telling y’all he is worldwide.


Author: Nicole Cunningham

American Expat and convert to Islam living and working between Lausanne and Zurich, Switzerland.

4 thoughts on “Does anyone not yet know how awesome Pablito is?

  1. I hate that woeful meow they make when they’re locked up. It’s such a desperate cry for freedom. Good advice at not talking to him – I always make the mistake of just asking how they’re doing. Like they’re not going to go ahead and tell me for the next 15-20 minutes what a horrible mum I am.

  2. Monsieur Pablito! La Pricesse Bailey est tombée amoureuse!

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