I already knew the answer. Even if my senior cat was a little slimmer than in his licking-the-bowl-clean heyday of yore, my long-torsoed, Bombay beauty was not going to fit under an airplane seat. “Guess we’re road tripping it then,” my less-than-enthusiastic husband sighed. The week of Christmas.
I’d already made peace with spending the Holiday in yet another Airbnb, this one number three, while our future home awaited completion. Made peace knowing it’d be another year without a decorated tree, my collection of snow globes, or a proper baking sheet to make reindeer cookies. The husband did buy a couple of last minute stockings at Target to fill with Secret Santa gags under $5 (a tradition), but, alas, they failed to make it onto the mantle. Because we now had a road trip ahead. The week of Christmas.
Santa Fe to Seattle. And back. In 7 days.
Junior (my cat) wasn’t Jones-ing for multi-state drive in December from Santa Fe to Seattle any more than we were. But he wasn’t digging his current living situation either: sequestered upstairs in his third Airbnb of the past year to avoid run-ins with the rescue puppy I brought home last February. I tried to make them pals: “C’mon! You’ve got so much in common. You both came from shelters, have fur and four legs, eat Boujee food with Royal in its label, and have a dedicated plush bed to call your own. Get along already!” Unfortunately, pets don’t always listen to me.
We could make this work, but..
We’ve now added an apartment to our lives..in Washington, D.C. In order to pay for this lovely shack we’re building in Santa Fe, we need income. Husband Greg landed a fantastic opportunity to serve as CFO of a public company last October after a lengthy interview process that took all summer. Awesome, yes. And it’s in D.C. So the Santa Fe home will be part-time, along with an apartment in D.C. We’re good with that plan, but our cat? Not so much. The thought of schlepping our aging Junior across the country yet again (he’s lived in 5 states already) and hiding him from the dog was a no go.
“But but but!! I pleaded. I’ll stay in Santa Fe with Junior, you take Charlie (the dog) to DC and we just fly back and forth, and you know..we’ll make it work!”
Thank God one of us is practical. “Let’s call Alex,” practical Greg responded. Alex is my 25-year stepson. He too is practical. Lives in Seattle, recently lost his two beloved kitties in a relationship break-up, and loves Junior. “Yeah, I’ll take Junior, I think he’d dig it here.”
Just gotta get him there. And the airlines were having none of it. I tried coaxing him into a pet-approved carrier in his room to see if he could withstand a short flight, but the poor guy couldn’t turn around. Road trip it is. A little Google mapping, Marriott points retrieval, Spotify playlist planning and we were on our way. On Christmas Eve.
Eyes on the road
Day one had us out the door at 5 AM, but by the time the sun rose, we were gaping at the halo of mountains winking at us in Colorado. I spotted a coffee shop driving through Pagosa Springs, but Greg honed in on a bright yellow cottage offering homemade baked goods. Fat scones and muffins in hand, we cleared out the display case and hit the road as crumbs accumulated in our seats. Miles later the gaping continued. Moab, Canyonlands, bright red rock striations and monster snow-capped peaks made us realize the world is so, so much greater than us. Keeping our eyes on the road was a challenge.
Just passing through
“But breakfast is included!” our Springhill Suites attendant in Salt Lake City cried. Thank you no, we plan to hit the road before dawn to make it to Seattle by tomorrow night. It seemed like a good idea. Drive all day Christmas, no traffic, stay at another roadside inn and meet up with Alex and my sister (who also lives in Seattle) first thing the following morning.
And it all went well, to a point. Passed dairy farms and semi trucks piled high with Idaho bakers as we traversed I-84 toward Oregon and Washington. Joked about an entire day subsisting on Maverik truck stop food as Christmas Day cuisine pickings were slim. Dreamed of rolling into Issaquah before nightfall to wake up near our final destination.
Then the snowstorms began. Never occurred to us to look closely at the Cascade Range forecast in December. I guess we’d had to make so many decisions thus far this one escaped us. An hour of white knuckling in a pitch black night through Snoqualmie pass dodging stalled cards and swerving semis left us numb by the time we landed safely at the Fairmont Inn. Thank God we packed a wine opener. And yes, we hung around for the included breakfast the following morning.
Old home, new home
By Thursday we had Junior settled into his new digs, with zero objection. “You mean I get the run of the place?” his wide green eyes seemed to be saying, as he roamed around Alex’ top floor Queen Anne apartment taking in views of Puget Sound. Yeah, buddy, you’re home! I got to spend a couple days with my sister and family before we hit the road back to Santa Fe on Saturday. We took a different route back to avoid the mountain passes and got to take in miles of mossy beauty and waterfalls along the Columbia River in Oregon. I miss Junior already, but love him enough to re-home where he can spend his golden years in comfort and joy. Even if it required giving up some of our own Christmas comfort and joy to drive him 1500 miles to get there.
Her Next Address 