The time came that I needed to end my stay, since Squeeker had become much more comfortable with his surroundings and was feeling secure. Also, I needed to do more to put away the things I'd unpacked, so I left after a week. However, I visited him every other day or so (at least 3 times a week, often more). That's when I learned the full meaning of, "You've never been ignored until you've been ignored by a cat." I guess he decided that while he loved me and eagerly awaited my every visit, he also wanted to teach me a lesson for leaving him again. My grandparents gave me one of their garage door openers for the entire time he spent there, and he got used to listening for the door to open. He was always at the door to the garage when I got there, and it was always difficult to get in without him getting out (he was still trying to do that whenever a door opened, be it the front door or the sliding glass door).

He would greet me, meowing his half-mew several times in quick succession ("mew-mew-mew, mew-mew-mew-mew", or sometimes more like "me-me-me-me"). He'd lead me in through the kitchen, and flop on his back in the family room with his cutest pose while I said hello to my grandparents. I'd pet his belly and he'd eventually decide to hug my arm while he kicked, but not hard. Then, once I'd been greeted, he was more or less done with me. He would sit in front of the sliding glass door, and if I sat down next to him for too long or gave him too much attention, he'd get up and sit in another part of the room. When he would tolerate me, it was to play, and rough. His claws were out, and he would bite with gusto (which didn't actually hurt as much as you'd think -- I was used to my parents' cat Teddy biting much harder during play). They'd let me feed him his canned food dinner in the evenings when I visited, and he'd come for that (his food, water, and litterbox were still all in "his" room, where he spent every night). But I think he rather enjoyed giving me the cold shoulder and teaching me a lesson -- he did this every time I visited right up until the day I took him home with me to my new apartment.

We continued on this way for some months, and then I signed my first real lease on a decent place in October 2000. I went about buying a bed, couches, a dining room table, a chest for my clothes: all the things a person needs to furnish a place reasonably well. I'd already unexpectedly had to buy a car that July, because the Horizon's timing belt went (in the work parking lot, on a very hot 100-degree day) and we didn't know if the engine was damaged (it wasn't worth the $300 to tow it & replace the belt just to find out). I'd been able to keep saving as well, since all I had was my car payment, insurance, and gas. So I dropped a goodly chunk of money to set everything up. I moved in in November (we did move a lot of stuff trip by trip that I didn't need at my parents' house though), and started getting settled in.

We had decided that I should take Squeeker to my apartment when I would have a good amount of time off (we get about a week and a half off, everything between Christmas and New Years, plus a couple more days depending on the holidays' weekly timing). Then, Thanksgiving was approaching, and we realized that my aunt and uncle (same uncle who came to my graduation) were going to be coming in town from North Carolina, bringing their two dogs (sweet things) with them. The bedroom we'd staked out as Squeeker's was in fact usually theirs whenever they visited, and so there was going to be a bit of conflict. We decided that I'd take him for Thanksgiving weekend, as a sort of trial visit for him to get used to my apartment and where he'd eventually be living, and then bring him back after the holiday was over. My sister got to thinking though, and quickly saw what we didn't right away -- it wouldn't be very nice to him to move him in with me for a few days, only to move him back again. So, as a sort of last minute decision, we changed plans and prepared to move him permanently in with me instead.