Bailey went first. He had been in the RV a good while already — long enough for rswfire to learn the shape of his hesitation, the ten minutes it took before he would even consider going down there, the areas he simply would not enter. That data was already logged when the second cat came through the door. One at a time. That was the protocol, and rswfire held to it.
Oliver walked in and went straight to the window. rswfire, camera in hand, narrating to no one and to everyone, registered it immediately: he seems more relaxed. The comparison was running in real time, two temperaments laid against the same enclosure. He climbed up to where Oliver had settled, close enough to hear it, and there it was — purring, already. Are you kidding me. The camera wobbled. He said aloud what he was thinking, that he really should get the GoPro out, that he was trying here, and kept filming anyway.
The cat moved and the RV revealed itself. Oliver found a compartment rswfire had not known was there — a space that opened where the slide came out, invisible until an animal went looking. I did not see that, guys. He said it twice, the surprise plain. The tour continued past the corner where the dead ladybugs had collected, a sad fate noted in passing and not dwelt on, past the week's accumulated trash, into the front cab where Bailey had never gone. Oliver went in without ceremony. rswfire told him where he'd be riding, and then told him again — you're going to be over here while I'm driving — the future arranged out loud while it was still being tested. Outside, the dogs were right there, audible through the wall.
Then the bathroom. All rswfire did was open a door, and Oliver went through it. He said that too — all I did was open a door, dude — and let the fact of it stand. Bailey didn't even go in there. He wondered whether Oliver would lick water from the shower after he got out, the way he does. Another door he closed deliberately: the exterior entrance opening directly onto the neighbor's backyard, their private space, shut until the vehicle moves.
The reading came steadily as he went. Oliver was easy, had always been easy, easier than rswfire had expected even knowing he'd be the easier one. Bailey would need more time — a lot more time — because Bailey is the sensitive one, the super sensitive one, and also the jumpy one, and also the destructive one, a dichotomy rswfire named without trying to resolve. The couch scared him on Bailey's behalf. When Oliver started chewing on something, rswfire shut the compartment. When he looked at the area with the outside entrance, he said it plainly: he didn't know how safe this was for them, and he'd have to clean it up. The structure would be adjusted to its occupants, not the reverse.
Between the assessments he kept saying the same thing to the cat, unhurried, a refrain running under the whole walkthrough — Oliver, why are you so cool — and near the end Oliver rubbed up against him, and rswfire said he was so happy about this. Our new home, he had told the cat at the start, before anything was verified. The rest was calibration, and it was going well.