Trying to understand cats

Whenever we have moved house in the past our cats (Mousie and Ratty) have always been completely traumatised by the whole event, which results in them:

a) hiding for at least 2 weeks
b) not speaking to us
c) barely eating
d) trying as much as they can without the use of the English language to convince us to move back to the old house.

Of course, their trip from Sydney to Auckland on one of Qantas' brand new 737-800's was by far the scariest thing they have ever done, but they survived - just. We picked them up from the airport 2 hours after arriving and took them straight to our temporary Viaduct Harbour accommodation where we would be staying for the next 5 weeks. This was a one bedroom flat on the 5th floor which both confused them in a "where the fuck does that massive corridor go" way and why can I look down on EVERYTHING. However they were a bit strange but mostly their normal selves.

Anyway, getting to my point, when we arrived in our new house 5 weeks later on Auckland's north shore, we unpacked and then brought the cats across. The same day they were sleeping on their old (trusty) couch in the new living room without a worry in the world. It seems that the horror of:

a) flying in the belly of an aeroplane, and
b) thinking they would have to spend the rest of their lives in a one bedroom box with no outdoor adventures

meant that when they were reunited with a big house contain all their old possessions, they realised that they were "home" again and instantly relaxed.

Amazing (also amazing that I have written a soppy blog post about cats!)