You may remember a few weeks ago, when I said my friends who just got married offered to take Newt in. (And there was much rejoicing.) They're in the process of moving back to Socorro, and figured they'd have a bigger place and it would be fine. But while they were perfectly happy to take her, and fairly sure they'd be able to, they didn't want to give me a 100% solid yes answer until they got their move sorted out this week. Well, it turns out their housing situation is much less stable than they were anticipating, and they now don't think it's a good idea. Sigh.
Well, never mind, on to Plan B! Plan B is my sister, who is also about to move, and who suddenly realized a little while ago that she's now going to be somewhere she can have a cat. She apparently related this fact happily to my mother, who replied, "You know, your sister has a cat..." Why yes. Yes, I do. Sis might not be in her new place for a few weeks yet, but the friends she's staying with say it'll be no problem for them to keep the cat there for a while. (To which I can only say: OMG, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!)
So, I called the airport today, and Newt now has a reservation to fly to Oregon with me when I go out to my sister's place in a week. I just need to go by the airport sometime before then and pick up the special carrier that fits under the plane seat. This, I think, is going to be an adventure. I'm actually rather nervous about it, mainly because they make you take the animal out of the carrier when you go through security. The carrier gets X-rayed, and you're supposed to carry the animal through the metal detector. Well, Newt does not like to be held. Not that she's not a friendly kitty, just that she doesn't like to be carried. In fact, it's just about impossible to do. You pick her up, and she's instantly out of your arms and sitting on your shoulder. Where at least she'll usually stay until you bend over far enough, as she doesn't seem to like jumping down from that height, particularly not from the shoulder of a person who's moving around. But I have visions of me picking her up and her escaping my arms, jumping down from my shoulder, and making a mad dash through the airport. At which point I'm either the star of a wacky comedy (or, as the guy who's not taking her put it, a Disney movie) involving adorably wacky animal hijinks, or of some kind of horrible tragedy as airport security decides the cat is probably wired to explode and take her down. Maybe I'll try wrapping her up in a towel.