Moving: not my thing
This is my "I'm not impressed" look. Out of the blue, with no warning and no consultation, the slaves packed up all my things, then then cat-napped me, and dumped me in this new place. Nothing smells the same. All my hiding spots have changed. I have been ripped from all that I know. And I have been trapped inside for many days and many nights. I have no idea when the outside world will be available to me again.
This moving thing? It's not for me. I do like this huge scratching post they have supplied with me, though (they call it a sofa). I am slowly working my way around it so that every surface is decorated by my claws.
I am also making the most of their guilt, by requesting constant attention and treats. So far, it is working. Maybe moving isn't so bad. I'll let you know.