Ahhh---it's not just home for me, but Howard and Sophie are right at home. Sure, it's been an adjustment, but they've made it beautifully! ---even with our minor few mishaps.
Sophie, of course, disappeared that first night, but she's not gone missing since. Even now, she is quite the queen feline of the house. She adores lying on my desk---whether I'm working here or not.
She also found the counter top in the butler's pantry, and she decided that was a perfect spot for her if I was in the kitchen. That was okay, but I'm trying hard to discourage her from the actual dining table. After all, I have a deep red runner on the table now, and her white hair just isn't going to be attractive there! (Yes, I subscribe to the theory that I have pets, and if you come over, you can---and should---expect to find pet hair. I won't charge you extra for it, even if you take some home with you on your clothes. ;-) Okay, seriously, I try to clean the pet hair, but anyone with cats knows, cat hair is a fact of life with an indoor cat.) 
Sophie also loves to lie on the floor next to the air vents. It's like her own little personal fan. In the evening, it's common for her to dash from the study, sprinting down the hall into the dining room. Then back again. I'm sure she's chasing whatever spirit she can see and I cannot. Good girl, Sophie.
And you could set your watch to her dependability of showing up in the bathroom as soon as I turn off the shower. She loves to go into the linen closet, and she learned quickly that shortly after the shower's over, I open that door. (This was not a good thing at first. The linen closet is just beside the tub, and there was an open space up on one of the shelves into the wall area where the tub faucet/knobs are. Indeed, Sophie found herself stuck in that wall one day. Fortunately, there's a door at the bottom of the closet, allowing access to the faucet area. I've since blocked that upper opening.) She also loves to dash into my clothes closet. Her crate is in the back of the closet, and she often wanders in there for a brief nap.
Howard? Well, he's great---now. About two weeks ago, though, it was quite a hectic Sunday morning. Have I mentioned that one day, going down into the basement to do laundry, I learned we were not alone. Eeeek! Indeed---a rodent! The property management company responded with rat poison--the bags o' pellets. I asked about the pets, and they said not to let the pets near the bags. Okay, well, they were in the basement, and there were all in places where I thought were inaccessible. Hmph. Famous last words.
See, I had thought the only times the pets could get access to the basement were times I had just run downstairs to change a load of laundry. But remember the flooding down there? Indeed---that floor needed some serious scrubbing. And one Sunday morning, I set out to scrub.
If you've ever really had to scrub (not just mop, seriously clean) a floor, then you know you can get a little focused on what your doing. So focused, that you forget a pet might come follow you down. And yes, Howard followed me. I noted that in the back of my mind, but I momentarily let my attention go back to the floor.
Click.
My mind jumped to Howard, and I realized he'd not come around the corner. I looked, and my fear was realized: there were rat poison pellets on the floor. He'd found a bag, pulled it out, and taken it away.
I ran like a frantic person (calm assertive was out the window!) upstairs, and found Howard on the guest bed tearing at the package. I shoved fingers down his throat, pulling out anything I could grab. I then immediately got on the phone to my dad, Doc, who calmed me down reassuringly, but offered advice for inducing vomiting. He didn't think it was totally necessary, but he knew it'd make me feel better. Off to get some hydrogen peroxide. (We didn't have to go far; my neighbor lent me his; I now have some here at home.)
Well, Howard thought I had become possessed by Satan himself, I'm sure. He looked at me as if I'd totally lost my mind, and how could I possibly be doing something as cruel as forcing him to swallow a couple of tablespoons of this vile liquid? We dosed once . . . and waited. We dosed again, then waited some more. Finally, on the third dose, up everything came. The liquid, upon getting to the stomach, seemed to work like a binding agent, and everything came up in a blob of meringue-like consistency. He gagged a little more, then I called Dad to update him.
Advice: if you have pets, use the bait stations---no bags o' pellets. I know, you think your pet can't get to it, but your pet can. Take it from me who heard it from the vet who's been called on many many occasions with the same thing: "I didn't think he could get to it." Use the bait stations.
That drama aside, Howard's doing fabulously. He stays very busy chasing the squirrels out of the back yard. And of course, he loves any time we get out for a walk. I hope to find an off-leash dog park soon.
Howard really enjoys the ottoman in the living room. He used to take any bone or treat up there, but now he has his blanket on the floor too, and he'll chew on things and nap there as well. But the ottoman does provide a prime spot for watching what's going on in the front of the house.
But I think Howard's favorite spot is the guest bed. Yes, I'll clean it before anyone comes, but just know---Howard thinks it's there just for him. Granted, he's wonderful about sharing, so I know he'll share it with anyone who visits. But yes, when he's had it with any noise in the living room, he can go lie on the this bed, see out the side window to Cole and Michelle's yard, and he can see me in the living room from this spot. And Sophie likes to hang out under this bed. Guest room? Well, there's no guests there right now. So I guess the better term is it's the Pet Room.
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