Packing up the old house has gone well. We've done a soft move in the past few weeks, while on Saturday the professionals come in to move the heavy stuff.
It's an obstacle course of boxes and bags strewn throughout the house. Once in a while, I get that split second thought that Isobelle is stood watching me, only to realize it's just a black bag.
I guess my only sadness about leaving Hancock Park is that we are leaving all of our memories of Isobelle here. She owned a part of every room, and we won't have that in the new house.
Of course that doesn't stop me from imagining how she would cope in the new house. With 3 levels and plenty of windows, closets and hiding places she would have a blast.
I still miss her every day. And I cannot imagine replacing her.