Getting the old fridge out and the new one in was another blog all together. I'll post about that soon, I promise. This blog is about the unexpected side effects. This fridge, apparently, is the fridge of death.
No, it hasn't eaten the kids yet. It hasn't let food go bad. But it is still apparently very evil and to be feared. At least that is what Jomo thinks.
Jomo is scared of EVERYTHING. New lamp? He'll scoot around it, tail tucked, and growl & bark at it from a safe distance. Satellite dish? Worthy of being barked & growled at ... from a safe distance of course. More trash than normal at the curb?? You guessed it. Bark, growl, runaway. Sound familiar? You've read about it before - http://thebluenymph.blogspot.com/2010/03/jomo-bark-growl-run-away.html
It comes as no surprise then that Jomo is scared of the fridge. But, he normally realizes within a couple hours (or a day) that whatever he thought was so scary really isn't. Not so with the fridge.
Normally he would be under my feet as I type this, today he is curled up in the doorway to the hall. Whiskey is curled up next to the fridge -- I think she's figured out Jomo won't come bother her if she's near it.
To make matters worse, the ice maker in this fridge actually works!! WONDERS OF WONDERS!! We haven't had a fridge with a working ice maker since we bought the house! Jomo has NEVER heard a fridge that makes ice.
I'll admit, the sound of the ice suddenly being dumped into the bucket (which is on the door by the way, too cool!) is a little startling. It just isn't something we're used to. But Jomo, poor, poor Jomo. Every time the ice gets dumped into the bucket he jumps a country mile and runs out of the room. Whiskey has done this a couple times as well, especially if she's been asleep right next to the fridge when said "attack" has occurred.
All of this has gotten me thinking about what I hadn't considered: how much the overall renovation would scare Jomo. New floors, new layout, new other stuff. There really isn't much we can do other than reassure him as always. I know he will be terrified of the tile floors - he was scared of the wood floors when we first got him (and the majority of our house is wooden floors).
Ah ... the hidden costs of renovations. Jomo keeps looking up at me with large, brown baby eyes that beg "Hold Me" (see the link for photos -he really does want to be held!). Whiskey keeps happily moaning in her sleep, curled up next to the fridge, as close as she can about be, knowing Jomo will not be able to pounce on her (aka - try to play) now.